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 Jamaica and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gerry Rafferty to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Aswad,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Don Cherry,
The Sound,
B.T. Express,
Buzzcocks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
LL Cool J,
The Victims,
Niagra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Trojans,
Donny Hathaway,
Morten Harket,
Blossom Toes,
X-102,
Henry Cow,
Pagans,
the Germs,
Matthew Halsall,
Pantaleimon,
Black Bananas,
UT,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sällskapet,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Music Machine,
Curtis Mayfield,
F. McDonald,
The Busters,
Joey Negro,
The Slackers,
Davy DMX,
Kenny Larkin,
Aural Exciters,
New York Dolls,
Crime,
Bad Manners,
Kas Product,
Brick,
Trumans Water,
Eric Copeland,
T.S.O.L.,
Sun City Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
Blancmange,
Sixth Finger,
The Monks,
Das Ding,
Glenn Branca,
Guru Guru,
Intrusion,
Juan Atkins,
Deepchord,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arcadia,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.