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 Macedonia and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb 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 snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Surgeon,
Mission of Burma,
Freddie Wadling,
Severed Heads,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kerrie Biddell,
Whodini,
Ornette Coleman,
Sandy B,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barrington Levy,
The Busters,
The Doors,
Godley & Creme,
Cecil Taylor,
Byron Stingily,
Half Japanese,
Gong,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Invisible,
Duran Duran,
Sound Behaviour,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bill Wells,
Sight & Sound,
Faust,
The Red Krayola,
Crispian St. Peters,
Skarface,
The Real Kids,
John Holt,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Bourne,
Magma,
Livin' Joy,
Roy Ayers,
Roxette,
Brand Nubian,
Magazine,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
Derrick Morgan,
L. Decosne,
Mark Hollis,
Slick Rick,
Harpers Bizarre,
Arcadia,
Crooked Eye,
Sugar Minott,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sam Rivers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
The Monks,
Howard Jones,
Grey Daturas,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Khruangbin,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stiv Bators,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.