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 Luxembourg 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brass Construction 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Soft Machine,
Ponytail,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Colin Newman,
The Five Americans,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
ABBA,
Marc Almond,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crooked Eye,
Scratch Acid,
Susan Cadogan,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Isaac Hayes,
Minnie Riperton,
Ronan,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ludus,
The Selecter,
Maurizio,
This Heat,
Judy Mowatt,
Malaria!,
Kevin Saunderson,
The J.B.'s,
Grauzone,
Mo-Dettes,
Jerry's Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Au Pairs,
The Slits,
David Bowie,
The Remains,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angry Samoans,
Lucky Dragons,
Joy Division,
D'Angelo,
New Order,
Severed Heads,
Trumans Water,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Parry Music,
Jacques Brel,
Marmalade,
Main Source,
Rakim,
Ken Boothe,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eve St. Jones,
Scientists,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.