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 Burkina and from Paris.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Happenings to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiohead record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Happenings,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hot Snakes,
R.M.O.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Parrish,
Procol Harum,
The Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
Talk Talk,
John Holt,
Judy Mowatt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Depeche Mode,
Franke,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bad Manners,
Fat Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Con Funk Shun,
Bush Tetras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funky Four + One,
X-101,
Beasts of Bourbon,
These Immortal Souls,
Rakim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Second Layer,
The Monks,
Lou Christie,
Rotary Connection,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fugs,
ABC,
Ultra Naté,
Brass Construction,
Alison Limerick,
Underground Resistance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
X-102,
Soulsonic Force,
Drexciya,
New York Dolls,
Average White Band,
the Human League,
Steve Hackett,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flash Fearless,
8 Eyed Spy,
Siglo XX,
Matthew Bourne,
Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
F. McDonald,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Standells,
Lower 48,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.