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 Angola and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
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 mellotron 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 T. Rex to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Delta 5,
Royal Trux,
Junior Murvin,
D'Angelo,
Jeff Lynne,
Television,
Theoretical Girls,
Terry Callier,
The Selecter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gun Club,
Mark Hollis,
Byron Stingily,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Flag,
One Last Wish,
The Detroit Cobras,
New Age Steppers,
Joyce Sims,
Ultra Naté,
Ornette Coleman,
Idris Muhammad,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boogie Down Productions,
The New Christs,
Ludus,
Average White Band,
The Sound,
Skaos,
Flipper,
Slick Rick,
Amazonics,
Unwound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Hood,
Radio Birdman,
Kaleidoscope,
The Mojo Men,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Basic Channel,
ABBA,
Interpol,
Sun City Girls,
the Normal,
Pere Ubu,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
The Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Offenders,
Sparks,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jandek,
The Last Poets,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kayak,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.