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 Somalia 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Monolake to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Chrome,
Darondo,
The Vogues,
Moebius,
Pylon,
Joe Smooth,
Fela Kuti,
Livin' Joy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boredoms,
Jawbox,
John Coltrane,
Hashim,
Matthew Bourne,
Thompson Twins,
Delon & Dalcan,
Camberwell Now,
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Josef K,
Sarah Menescal,
Anthony Braxton,
the Association,
X-101,
Masters at Work,
Hardrive,
Cecil Taylor,
Yellowson,
Average White Band,
Scrapy,
the Germs,
Stiv Bators,
Donald Byrd,
Ice-T,
Quantec,
Henry Cow,
Neil Young,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
The Saints,
Pole,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sound Behaviour,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Tremeloes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Duran Duran,
Suicide,
Urselle,
the Human League,
ABBA,
The Moleskins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joyce Sims,
Television,
the Soft Cell,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.