Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Fear to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Litter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Barracudas,
H. Thieme,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Starr,
Camouflage,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cluster,
Albert Ayler,
Harpers Bizarre,
cv313,
ABC,
Lungfish,
a-ha,
The Martian,
Faraquet,
The Wake,
Bad Manners,
The Five Americans,
Harmonia,
Nik Kershaw,
X-101,
Buzzcocks,
DNA,
48th St. Collective,
The Angels of Light,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blancmange,
The Star Department,
David Axelrod,
Piero Umiliani,
The Music Machine,
Wings,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skriet,
Can,
Sister Nancy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Stiv Bators,
Ken Boothe,
Symarip,
Thee Headcoats,
Parry Music,
Michelle Simonal,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Gichy Dan,
Little Man,
the Slits,
Eric Copeland,
The Detroit Cobras,
Flash Fearless,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultimate Spinach,
June of 44,
Underground Resistance,
Alton Ellis,
Pantaleimon,
Rotary Connection,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.