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 Tunisia and from Copenhagen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Suburban Knight to the grime 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
James White and The Blacks,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonic Youth,
Magazine,
Clear Light,
Trumans Water,
Wolf Eyes,
Pantaleimon,
Aloha Tigers,
Little Man,
Nirvana,
The Index,
The Trojans,
Heaven 17,
Average White Band,
Slave,
Intrusion,
Arthur Verocai,
the Sonics,
Gichy Dan,
Jeff Lynne,
Howard Jones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
Lucky Dragons,
Minny Pops,
Avey Tare,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Henry Cow,
Eddi Front,
Ice-T,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ornette Coleman,
World's Most,
Funky Four + One,
Funkadelic,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Golliwogs,
Stetsasonic,
Bronski Beat,
Public Enemy,
The Young Rascals,
Fat Boys,
The Real Kids,
Stiv Bators,
The Skatalites,
Jesper Dahlback,
Parry Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Buzzcocks,
ABC,
Japan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Cale,
Isaac Hayes,
Slick Rick,
Judy Mowatt,
Toni Rubio,
Quadrant,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.