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 Burundi 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Hardrive to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim 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?
The American Breed,
Trumans Water,
The Index,
the Association,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Moleskins,
Parry Music,
Boredoms,
Joe Smooth,
Adolescents,
Eli Mardock,
Sonny Sharrock,
Clear Light,
Audionom,
Qualms,
Harry Pussy,
Bronski Beat,
Cheater Slicks,
T.S.O.L.,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
The Residents,
The Music Machine,
Heaven 17,
Cabaret Voltaire,
K-Klass,
the Slits,
Dark Day,
Jandek,
James White and The Blacks,
Japan,
The Birthday Party,
The Raincoats,
Susan Cadogan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
PIL,
B.T. Express,
Hoover,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sex Pistols,
Reuben Wilson,
Pole,
Massinfluence,
Lightning Bolt,
One Last Wish,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gong,
Organ,
Minutemen,
Bill Near,
Slick Rick,
Yaz,
Ponytail,
The Walker Brothers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Intrusion,
Dennis Brown,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Aswad,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.