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 Hungary and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar 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 Bang On A Can to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Nico,
The Saints,
Eurythmics,
CMW,
The New Christs,
Make Up,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
Rites of Spring,
The Associates,
Main Source,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Kinks,
The Cowsills,
EPMD,
Schoolly D,
Fad Gadget,
Fluxion,
Quando Quango,
Groovy Waters,
PIL,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Victims,
Roy Ayers,
The Angels of Light,
Swell Maps,
A Certain Ratio,
Mandrill,
Max Romeo,
Erasure,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
Flash Fearless,
The Index,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Blake Baxter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pharoah Sanders,
Parry Music,
Radiohead,
Wire,
Second Layer,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Newcleus,
Nik Kershaw,
The Dirtbombs,
Marine Girls,
Unwound,
Theoretical Girls,
Animal Collective,
Ice-T,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Foxx,
The Birthday Party,
Average White Band,
Lungfish,
Bizarre Inc.,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.