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 Kuwait and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Laurel Aitken 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
Warren Ellis,
the Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Swans,
Cluster,
The Last Poets,
Eurythmics,
JFA,
Subhumans,
X-102,
Mr. Review,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Public Enemy,
Ossler,
Althea and Donna,
The Vogues,
Deakin,
Reuben Wilson,
Donny Hathaway,
Youth Brigade,
Yaz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Icehouse,
The Smiths,
Tubeway Army,
John Foxx,
Josef K,
Absolute Body Control,
Outsiders,
Joy Division,
Radio Birdman,
Swans,
Quando Quango,
Man Parrish,
H. Thieme,
Niagra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Smog,
The Trojans,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Christie,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
Roger Hodgson,
Scion,
Trumans Water,
Sparks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tom Boy,
The Golliwogs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.