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 Botswana and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Royal Trux to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Sex Pistols,
Yaz,
The Star Department,
Thee Headcoats,
A Certain Ratio,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fela Kuti,
Clear Light,
Gichy Dan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lucky Dragons,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
Eve St. Jones,
Flash Fearless,
Chrome,
Max Romeo,
The Standells,
Agent Orange,
The Barracudas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Association,
Public Enemy,
Mission of Burma,
The Selecter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Shuggie Otis,
Livin' Joy,
MC5,
Metal Thangz,
Ohio Players,
Barbara Tucker,
Outsiders,
Khruangbin,
Porter Ricks,
Pantaleimon,
Ituana,
X-Ray Spex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lebanon Hanover,
Con Funk Shun,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minutemen,
Swell Maps,
Idris Muhammad,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ludus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Faust,
Main Source,
The Dirtbombs,
Moby Grape,
The J.B.'s,
The New Christs,
Infiniti,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Blake Baxter,
Spoonie Gee,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.