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 Netherlands and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Deakin to the punk 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Freddie Wadling,
Clear Light,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cameo,
Robert Hood,
Lebanon Hanover,
David Bowie,
The Real Kids,
Blossom Toes,
Hashim,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mars,
Pere Ubu,
Yazoo,
Magma,
World's Most,
Alton Ellis,
Lungfish,
Black Sheep,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
The Tremeloes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ohio Players,
Moby Grape,
Darondo,
Ronan,
Motorama,
Roxette,
Slave,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cymande,
John Cale,
Minutemen,
Animal Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minny Pops,
Ultravox,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cal Tjader,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jawbox,
Gong,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bronski Beat,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Mummies,
Byron Stingily,
A Certain Ratio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barrington Levy,
X-Ray Spex,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Order,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quando Quango,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.