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 Bangladesh and from Accra.
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 New York and Shanghai.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Maleditus Sound to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sight & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
The Monks,
Kenny Larkin,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deadbeat,
Henry Cow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed,
The Real Kids,
Rufus Thomas,
The Martian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kas Product,
Albert Ayler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eric Copeland,
John Cale,
Audionom,
Schoolly D,
Matthew Bourne,
The Kinks,
Jeff Lynne,
The Music Machine,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sight & Sound,
Inner City,
Idris Muhammad,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Iggy Pop,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fatback Band,
Simply Red,
Dave Gahan,
The Tremeloes,
Absolute Body Control,
Man Eating Sloth,
AZ,
The Raincoats,
Wasted Youth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Royal Trux,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sound,
Liliput,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sam Rivers,
Trumans Water,
Japan,
Jandek,
Lungfish,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bootsy Collins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Misunderstood,
FM Einheit,
Gang of Four,
Marc Almond,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.