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 Nauru and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 Misunderstood to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
The Sound,
Second Layer,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rotary Connection,
The Gun Club,
David Bowie,
Idris Muhammad,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric Copeland,
kango's stein massive,
Fear,
Duran Duran,
Albert Ayler,
The Kinks,
The Evens,
Nik Kershaw,
Scientists,
Bush Tetras,
R.M.O.,
T.S.O.L.,
John Lydon,
John Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bronski Beat,
Gang of Four,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rosa Yemen,
The Zeros,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Move,
cv313,
James White and The Blacks,
Max Romeo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Livin' Joy,
Circle Jerks,
Jacques Brel,
Joensuu 1685,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lucky Dragons,
Unwound,
In Retrospect,
Goldenarms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Television Personalities,
Donny Hathaway,
Oneida,
Rod Modell,
June of 44,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Dirtbombs,
Todd Rundgren,
The Offenders,
Harpers Bizarre,
Althea and Donna,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.