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 Barbados and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Saints to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Average White Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Barry Ungar,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Silicon Teens,
Bobby Byrd,
Yazoo,
Gang Starr,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Raincoats,
The Saints,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kenny Larkin,
Mandrill,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Busters,
The Offenders,
Gregory Isaacs,
Donald Byrd,
Swell Maps,
Lucky Dragons,
Mars,
Warren Ellis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pere Ubu,
The Golliwogs,
Sound Behaviour,
Metal Thangz,
Banda Bassotti,
D'Angelo,
Danielle Patucci,
Crooked Eye,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker,
Bush Tetras,
Graham Central Station,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Terry Callier,
Gang of Four,
The Dead C,
Trumans Water,
Aural Exciters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Laurel Aitken,
Outsiders,
Kaleidoscope,
Animal Collective,
Organ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Urselle,
Harry Pussy,
Camouflage,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.