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 El Salvador and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 grunge 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
E-Dancer,
Kurtis Blow,
Hardrive,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
B.T. Express,
Symarip,
Bizarre Inc.,
David Bowie,
The Victims,
Pulsallama,
Ponytail,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Offenders,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ludus,
Davy DMX,
Darondo,
10cc,
James White and The Blacks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun City Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Archie Shepp,
Grauzone,
Slick Rick,
The Fall,
Agent Orange,
Quadrant,
Ituana,
The Fortunes,
Schoolly D,
The Motions,
Vainqueur,
Ken Boothe,
Goldenarms,
The Last Poets,
F. McDonald,
Patti Smith,
Siglo XX,
China Crisis,
Dark Day,
Eurythmics,
Prince Buster,
Yellowson,
The Move,
Mo-Dettes,
Urselle,
Faraquet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oneida,
Angry Samoans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Byrd,
Brothers Johnson,
Janne Schatter,
Sex Pistols,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bob Dylan,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.