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 Poland and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin 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 Pulsallama to the crunk 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Bill Wells,
Nils Olav,
T. Rex,
Freddie Wadling,
Mars,
Aswad,
The Moody Blues,
The Tremeloes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Massinfluence,
Gichy Dan,
Althea and Donna,
The Dead C,
Marine Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Suburban Knight,
Spoonie Gee,
The Neon Judgement,
Chrome,
Yusef Lateef,
Rites of Spring,
Roxy Music,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultravox,
Essential Logic,
Lou Reed,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
Donald Byrd,
Skarface,
Franke,
Reagan Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marmalade,
The Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Al Stewart,
The Fortunes,
Wally Richardson,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bush Tetras,
Pulsallama,
The Mojo Men,
Dead Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
Bad Manners,
EPMD,
Inner City,
One Last Wish,
Von Mondo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hot Snakes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.