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 Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Slits to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lyres,
Crime,
The Fire Engines,
Patti Smith,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blues Magoos,
June of 44,
DJ Sneak,
Freddie Wadling,
Sight & Sound,
Dual Sessions,
Trumans Water,
Robert Görl,
the Normal,
Kool Moe Dee,
Smog,
The Searchers,
The Sound,
The Velvet Underground,
Connie Case,
The Flesh Eaters,
Qualms,
Mo-Dettes,
Depeche Mode,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scientists,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blancmange,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tears for Fears,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tommy Roe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rotary Connection,
Cluster,
Deakin,
Hashim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
LL Cool J,
Los Fastidios,
Jacques Brel,
Spoonie Gee,
Severed Heads,
Aural Exciters,
Piero Umiliani,
Jandek,
Kurtis Blow,
Gerry Rafferty,
48th St. Collective,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fugs,
Bobby Womack,
Index,
Massinfluence,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.