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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Manchester.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Unwound to the punk 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Joy Division,
Stiv Bators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wings,
Stetsasonic,
The Dead C,
The Moody Blues,
The Raincoats,
Howard Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Amon Düül II,
The Index,
The Cramps,
Harry Pussy,
Idris Muhammad,
The Wake,
Yaz,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Amazonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Carl Craig,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang On A Can,
Terry Callier,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terrestrial Tones,
Max Romeo,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Byrd,
Sugar Minott,
Camouflage,
The Selecter,
Ponytail,
Sun City Girls,
Blancmange,
Ludus,
Cameo,
Barrington Levy,
Sonic Youth,
Altered Images,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sixth Finger,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Pop Group,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang Green,
World's Most,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
Bauhaus,
Pulsallama,
Television,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T. Rex,
Nils Olav,
Lebanon Hanover,
James White and The Blacks,
In Retrospect,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.