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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 New York Dolls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
The Blackbyrds,
Joe Finger,
David Bowie,
The Slits,
Skarface,
Lyres,
Pantytec,
Massinfluence,
Subhumans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cecil Taylor,
Popol Vuh,
Tears for Fears,
Iggy Pop,
Depeche Mode,
Television Personalities,
Pylon,
Joensuu 1685,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harpers Bizarre,
June of 44,
Duran Duran,
Althea and Donna,
Porter Ricks,
Hot Snakes,
The Red Krayola,
Matthew Halsall,
Rakim,
Albert Ayler,
Harmonia,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tomorrow,
Arthur Verocai,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
Scientists,
Newcleus,
Trumans Water,
Alphaville,
Sonic Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Throbbing Gristle,
Severed Heads,
Patti Smith,
Unrelated Segments,
Peter and Kerry,
Infiniti,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
La Düsseldorf,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bootsy Collins,
B.T. Express,
Arab on Radar,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.