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 Sudan 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wolf Eyes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Radio Birdman,
Alton Ellis,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
June Days,
Banda Bassotti,
Dead Boys,
Mantronix,
Tres Demented,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Clear Light,
David Axelrod,
Davy DMX,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Enemy,
Mark Hollis,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
Rites of Spring,
Liliput,
Von Mondo,
The Gories,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Trojans,
Andrew Hill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Unrelated Segments,
The Human League,
Niagra,
Inner City,
John Lydon,
Bobby Byrd,
Blancmange,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pussy Galore,
Spandau Ballet,
Rosa Yemen,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Normal,
Negative Approach,
Ken Boothe,
Prince Buster,
The Gun Club,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Isaac Hayes,
Duran Duran,
Sex Pistols,
Scientists,
The Kinks,
Soul II Soul,
Gregory Isaacs,
Agitation Free,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Vogues,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.