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 Montenegro and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can 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 Saints,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kas Product,
Flipper,
Massinfluence,
The Angels of Light,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Buckinghams,
Silicon Teens,
Bauhaus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hoover,
Thee Headcoats,
Harry Pussy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Robert Hood,
The Fire Engines,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Warsaw,
Black Flag,
John Cale,
Liliput,
Sight & Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Accadde A,
The Zeros,
Bronski Beat,
Supertramp,
CMW,
Intrusion,
Minor Threat,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Yazoo,
The Music Machine,
Harmonia,
The Doobie Brothers,
DNA,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Crash Course in Science,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Fortunes,
Drexciya,
Tommy Roe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Gap Band,
Mars,
The Modern Lovers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Barry Ungar,
Soft Machine,
Con Funk Shun,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Matthew Bourne,
Vladislav Delay,
Blossom Toes,
The Raincoats,
Skriet,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.