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 Chile and from London.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 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 Theoretical Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
The Standells,
Bush Tetras,
Kas Product,
New Age Steppers,
Desert Stars,
Crispian St. Peters,
Monks,
The Trojans,
DJ Sneak,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Junior Murvin,
Eve St. Jones,
Neu!,
Darondo,
Angry Samoans,
Hoover,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Busters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pussy Galore,
Michelle Simonal,
Aaron Thompson,
The New Christs,
Theoretical Girls,
The Victims,
Fela Kuti,
Porter Ricks,
Country Teasers,
The Mummies,
Chrome,
Scientists,
Joy Division,
Accadde A,
World's Most,
DNA,
Todd Rundgren,
Second Layer,
Mandrill,
ABBA,
Anakelly,
David Axelrod,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marvin Gaye,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Visage,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thee Headcoats,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Zeros,
Goldenarms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Alarm Clocks,
Albert Ayler,
Motorama,
The Fortunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Roxy Music,
The Seeds,
Wire,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.