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 East Timor and from Houston.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ponytail to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magma,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Thompson Twins,
Chrome,
Deakin,
Rakim,
Kayak,
The Doors,
Moby Grape,
The Last Poets,
Sällskapet,
Massinfluence,
Wolf Eyes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Dolphy,
Marvin Gaye,
Silicon Teens,
Eric Copeland,
Jacob Miller,
Rotary Connection,
Bluetip,
Can,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jerry's Kids,
Funkadelic,
Unrelated Segments,
Radiohead,
Terry Callier,
David Bowie,
Gil Scott Heron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Smoke,
The J.B.'s,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
Pharoah Sanders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rites of Spring,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gong,
The Golliwogs,
The Standells,
The Cure,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
David McCallum,
Unwound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Darondo,
Morten Harket,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Quadrant,
Patti Smith,
Prince Buster,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New York Dolls,
In Retrospect,
Yellowson,
Cheater Slicks,
Byron Stingily,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.