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 Pakistan and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Durutti Column to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tommy Roe,
John Cale,
The Standells,
Dave Gahan,
Magma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Count Five,
Kenny Larkin,
Angry Samoans,
Ultravox,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yaz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pere Ubu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kas Product,
Brand Nubian,
MDC,
Cal Tjader,
The J.B.'s,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Malaria!,
Alice Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Michelle Simonal,
Adolescents,
Essential Logic,
Blake Baxter,
Matthew Bourne,
JFA,
Skriet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Terry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Near,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Oneida,
Bush Tetras,
John Holt,
Fela Kuti,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Young Rascals,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Aswad,
PIL,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantytec,
X-Ray Spex,
Thompson Twins,
Joe Smooth,
Shuggie Otis,
Ronnie Foster,
The Slits,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.