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 New Zealand and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Brass Construction to the techno 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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Ossler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Big Daddy Kane,
Byron Stingily,
the Human League,
John Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Neil Young,
Delta 5,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Pus,
Pantytec,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Robert Wyatt,
Clear Light,
Bauhaus,
Talk Talk,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Reagan Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
Chris Corsano,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mr. Review,
Guru Guru,
Quantec,
Radio Birdman,
Jesper Dahlback,
Quadrant,
John Cale,
Ponytail,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tomorrow,
The J.B.'s,
OOIOO,
Chris & Cosey,
Terrestrial Tones,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Searchers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Depeche Mode,
Infiniti,
Henry Cow,
ABBA,
Make Up,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Traffic Nightmare,
Colin Newman,
Jeff Mills,
Jacques Brel,
Morten Harket,
Desert Stars,
One Last Wish,
The Beau Brummels,
Mark Hollis,
Stiv Bators,
Ituana,
Joe Smooth,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.