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 United States and from Sao Paulo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 Black Flag to the funk 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Divine Comedy,
The Moody Blues,
Henry Cow,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Shadows of Knight,
H. Thieme,
DNA,
Roxy Music,
Dennis Brown,
Au Pairs,
Clear Light,
Essential Logic,
The Monochrome Set,
Flash Fearless,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Yusef Lateef,
Shoche,
Jeru the Damaja,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
Animal Collective,
Groovy Waters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Moebius,
Chris & Cosey,
Suicide,
Stetsasonic,
AZ,
Erasure,
MDC,
Tubeway Army,
The Fortunes,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Cale,
Agitation Free,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry's Kids,
Ice-T,
Quando Quango,
Gastr Del Sol,
David McCallum,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Moon,
Hasil Adkins,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang of Four,
Zero Boys,
Archie Shepp,
Desert Stars,
Underground Resistance,
Audionom,
The Toasters,
Buzzcocks,
Bob Dylan,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultravox,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sandy B,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.