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 Palau and from Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lou Reed to the rock 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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Severed Heads,
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
Half Japanese,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Foxx,
Iggy Pop,
The Skatalites,
Quadrant,
Organ,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Misunderstood,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sun Ra,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joensuu 1685,
Niagra,
Mr. Review,
The Dead C,
Livin' Joy,
Qualms,
Newcleus,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Supertramp,
The Kinks,
the Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Style,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marvin Gaye,
Blancmange,
June of 44,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Womack,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Move,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
Reagan Youth,
The Names,
PIL,
Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
Amazonics,
Eve St. Jones,
KRS-One,
The Leaves,
Pere Ubu,
Siglo XX,
Donny Hathaway,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Moody Blues,
Byron Stingily,
Ludus,
Ituana,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.