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 Haiti and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Susan Cadogan to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Wake,
Robert Wyatt,
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Albert Ayler,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker,
Dorothy Ashby,
Interpol,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sun Ra,
DJ Style,
Depeche Mode,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wings,
Pylon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Q and Not U,
The Dirtbombs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Panda Bear,
James White and The Blacks,
Lucky Dragons,
The Index,
Pussy Galore,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The J.B.'s,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Flag,
Carl Craig,
Swans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Walker Brothers,
Desert Stars,
The Pretty Things,
Hoover,
Tubeway Army,
Johnny Clarke,
Unrelated Segments,
OOIOO,
Bill Near,
Babytalk,
Pole,
Michelle Simonal,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sight & Sound,
Eric Copeland,
Underground Resistance,
Soul II Soul,
Nik Kershaw,
MC5,
Stiv Bators,
DJ Sneak,
the Bar-Kays,
Q65,
Pere Ubu,
The Martian,
H. Thieme,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.