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 Sierra Leone and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Black Flag to the electroclash 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tom Boy,
Second Layer,
Wire,
Tomorrow,
The Music Machine,
Lou Christie,
Janne Schatter,
Depeche Mode,
Niagra,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Stockholm Monsters,
Charles Mingus,
Nas,
Boredoms,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Angels of Light,
Cal Tjader,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
Bill Wells,
Ten City,
Eli Mardock,
Reagan Youth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Khruangbin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Urselle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Black Sheep,
Archie Shepp,
Blancmange,
Eddi Front,
The Toasters,
Pierre Henry,
Severed Heads,
Ultravox,
Patti Smith,
Swell Maps,
The Kinks,
Sun City Girls,
The Sonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Camouflage,
Scientists,
Sugar Minott,
Crooked Eye,
The Misunderstood,
Jacques Brel,
The Techniques,
the Swans,
Outsiders,
Lower 48,
Magma,
The Grass Roots,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.