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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb 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 Main Source to the grunge 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Chrome,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Depeche Mode,
Camberwell Now,
The Count Five,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gong,
Connie Case,
The Human League,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Accadde A,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Technova,
Rekid,
Moby Grape,
ABBA,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gichy Dan,
Visage,
Reuben Wilson,
Amazonics,
Mr. Review,
Rapeman,
Black Sheep,
Hardrive,
Todd Terry,
48th St. Collective,
Sister Nancy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Aswad,
Oneida,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Starr,
Danielle Patucci,
Colin Newman,
Eli Mardock,
Bauhaus,
The Names,
Jeff Lynne,
Sun City Girls,
Henry Cow,
the Slits,
Los Fastidios,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Derrick May,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kenny Larkin,
Cecil Taylor,
The Beau Brummels,
Barry Ungar,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs,
Lou Reed,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Arcadia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Happenings,
Joey Negro,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.