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 Belarus and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar 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 The J.B.'s to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat 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?
B.T. Express,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mo-Dettes,
Byron Stingily,
Sound Behaviour,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DNA,
Colin Newman,
Tom Boy,
Supertramp,
Soft Cell,
The Modern Lovers,
Harmonia,
Tommy Roe,
Charles Mingus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fear,
Brand Nubian,
Donny Hathaway,
the Bar-Kays,
Camberwell Now,
The Walker Brothers,
The Black Dice,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nas,
The Slackers,
T. Rex,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ossler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wire,
Roger Hodgson,
Malaria!,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bad Manners,
H. Thieme,
New Age Steppers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Zeros,
The Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David McCallum,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Monochrome Set,
Lightning Bolt,
Gong,
Skaos,
E-Dancer,
Ken Boothe,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.