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 Tunisia and from Accra.
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 Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Fatback Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Lyres,
The Names,
Sam Rivers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mantronix,
X-101,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tomorrow,
Funkadelic,
Gang of Four,
the Swans,
Pierre Henry,
Panda Bear,
The United States of America,
Ten City,
Q and Not U,
Scratch Acid,
The Modern Lovers,
Howard Jones,
DNA,
Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
Chrome,
June Days,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lou Reed,
The Cowsills,
The Fugs,
Kurtis Blow,
H. Thieme,
Grauzone,
Marc Almond,
Nas,
Hoover,
Dark Day,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-102,
Scott Walker,
Matthew Bourne,
Kas Product,
Mission of Burma,
Reagan Youth,
Terry Callier,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Adolescents,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DJ Style,
Johnny Osbourne,
AZ,
L. Decosne,
the Association,
Wolf Eyes,
Jacob Miller,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Womack,
Faust,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.