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 Korea South and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Halifax.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Index to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
The Standells,
Mars,
Infiniti,
Flipper,
The Real Kids,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Order,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barbara Tucker,
Brand Nubian,
Rufus Thomas,
Dawn Penn,
Hot Snakes,
Visage,
Gichy Dan,
Eli Mardock,
Barry Ungar,
The Searchers,
Donald Byrd,
U.S. Maple,
The Cowsills,
Wally Richardson,
The Skatalites,
The Names,
Excepter,
Ken Boothe,
Spandau Ballet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gladiators,
The Victims,
John Holt,
Nirvana,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
The Move,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doors,
Silicon Teens,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Banda Bassotti,
Alton Ellis,
the Slits,
The Monochrome Set,
the Bar-Kays,
Cal Tjader,
Kenny Larkin,
Soul Sonic Force,
Theoretical Girls,
Crooked Eye,
The Evens,
Freddie Wadling,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Goldenarms,
Trumans Water,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Flash Fearless,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.