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 Ivory Coast and from Lille.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sun City Girls to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Walker Brothers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
FM Einheit,
Brick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Porter Ricks,
The Five Americans,
Minny Pops,
Nik Kershaw,
Suburban Knight,
Youth Brigade,
Warren Ellis,
Isaac Hayes,
The Names,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glambeats Corp.,
OOIOO,
Bang On A Can,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Real Kids,
Mr. Review,
The Barracudas,
Deadbeat,
Das Ding,
The Grass Roots,
Monks,
The Human League,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Rundgren,
Scientists,
Byron Stingily,
Funky Four + One,
Intrusion,
Donald Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yazoo,
Unwound,
The Stooges,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magma,
John Coltrane,
Echospace,
Pet Shop Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
Public Enemy,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
Cameo,
Vladislav Delay,
Bronski Beat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Connie Case,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Index,
Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.