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 Lesotho and from Madrid.
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 Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Leaves to the disco 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red 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?
The Fire Engines,
Gang Gang Dance,
Todd Terry,
Index,
Warsaw,
L. Decosne,
Mars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Toasters,
Negative Approach,
Nico,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
June of 44,
Brick,
Leonard Cohen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
World's Most,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kenny Larkin,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Teasers,
Banda Bassotti,
The Mojo Men,
Ice-T,
Wally Richardson,
The Electric Prunes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Drexciya,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Green,
The Busters,
Delta 5,
The Standells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
The Sound,
Soft Machine,
Radiopuhelimet,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Shuggie Otis,
David McCallum,
Pierre Henry,
Underground Resistance,
The Moleskins,
Archie Shepp,
Cluster,
Bauhaus,
Shoche,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Germs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pussy Galore,
Swans,
The Index,
Sex Pistols,
The United States of America,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.