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 Lyon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Martian to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Sixth Finger,
Outsiders,
The Sound,
Black Moon,
Suburban Knight,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mark Hollis,
Soulsonic Force,
Lucky Dragons,
Anthony Braxton,
Pet Shop Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Qualms,
Q and Not U,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Flag,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kool Moe Dee,
Unwound,
Ituana,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-101,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Toasters,
John Holt,
Donald Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
Ornette Coleman,
Cal Tjader,
Organ,
Young Marble Giants,
Amon Düül,
Siglo XX,
Susan Cadogan,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Starr,
The Happenings,
Audionom,
Brand Nubian,
Dave Gahan,
Fat Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Con Funk Shun,
Absolute Body Control,
Country Teasers,
Fear,
The Grass Roots,
The Kinks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rapeman,
Derrick May,
Marvin Gaye,
Gerry Rafferty,
Icehouse,
Khruangbin,
Aswad,
Main Source,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
Jacques Brel,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.