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 Barbados and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jeff Mills,
The Dead C,
John Foxx,
Wire,
DJ Sneak,
Cecil Taylor,
Bang On A Can,
Whodini,
Fat Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Flipper,
The Birthday Party,
Mantronix,
Amon Düül II,
Icehouse,
Crash Course in Science,
Dead Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hoover,
Leonard Cohen,
Schoolly D,
Vainqueur,
Hashim,
The Fortunes,
New Order,
Avey Tare,
The Remains,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Brand Nubian,
Gang of Four,
Dual Sessions,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cluster,
Mandrill,
Shoche,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
Stetsasonic,
The Move,
The Residents,
Simply Red,
Make Up,
Isaac Hayes,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doors,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Bananas,
Bauhaus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Moleskins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Accadde A,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.