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 Solomon Islands and from Delhi.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator 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 Black Pus to the grime 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Amon Düül II,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tubeway Army,
Man Parrish,
Scion,
Eurythmics,
The Cowsills,
The Saints,
The Fuzztones,
Sällskapet,
The J.B.'s,
Popol Vuh,
Scratch Acid,
Rod Modell,
Mad Mike,
Hashim,
The Buckinghams,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Arthur Verocai,
Intrusion,
Robert Hood,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amon Düül,
Ten City,
Dawn Penn,
Siglo XX,
L. Decosne,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Bar-Kays,
The Star Department,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Vladislav Delay,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Camouflage,
The Raincoats,
Television Personalities,
The Human League,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Names,
The United States of America,
Joe Smooth,
Mark Hollis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barbara Tucker,
Stetsasonic,
Ituana,
The Knickerbockers,
Scientists,
Angry Samoans,
Chris Corsano,
Adolescents,
Pet Shop Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.