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 Mauritania 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin 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 New Order to the dance 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Hardrive,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sonics,
The Walker Brothers,
Todd Terry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobby Womack,
The Angels of Light,
Donald Byrd,
H. Thieme,
Mandrill,
Deakin,
Rufus Thomas,
Silicon Teens,
EPMD,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hashim,
Nils Olav,
Jacques Brel,
Fat Boys,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
Gong,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Iggy Pop,
David McCallum,
Josef K,
X-Ray Spex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Stooges,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Divine Comedy,
Little Man,
Joy Division,
Anthony Braxton,
The Associates,
Mission of Burma,
Juan Atkins,
Sound Behaviour,
Electric Prunes,
Bluetip,
DNA,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arcadia,
Young Marble Giants,
Bill Wells,
Boredoms,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dead Boys,
Moss Icon,
Terry Callier,
Matthew Halsall,
ABBA,
Scientists,
Bauhaus,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Martian,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.