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 Paraguay and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
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 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 Khruangbin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar 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 sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Johnny Clarke,
The American Breed,
Nils Olav,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Derrick May,
Swans,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The J.B.'s,
Nick Fraelich,
Pierre Henry,
F. McDonald,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Au Pairs,
Can,
Barbara Tucker,
Severed Heads,
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
10cc,
Jandek,
The Knickerbockers,
Cluster,
The Toasters,
Bush Tetras,
The Invisible,
ABC,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kenny Larkin,
Black Pus,
The Beau Brummels,
The Grass Roots,
The Doors,
PIL,
Visage,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Wells,
Oneida,
The Divine Comedy,
Massinfluence,
Quadrant,
Siglo XX,
the Fania All-Stars,
Archie Shepp,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scan 7,
Main Source,
Skriet,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Whodini,
Minutemen,
The Modern Lovers,
The Last Poets,
Crime,
Essential Logic,
Metal Thangz,
Goldenarms,
Pole,
Harmonia,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.