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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Agitation Free to the rap 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Matthew Bourne,
Fat Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Invisible,
Juan Atkins,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dead C,
Kerrie Biddell,
Donny Hathaway,
Reuben Wilson,
Lee Hazlewood,
EPMD,
Technova,
Massinfluence,
Subhumans,
Sex Pistols,
Deepchord,
Carl Craig,
The Searchers,
Lakeside,
Babytalk,
The Gories,
Underground Resistance,
DJ Sneak,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Sherman,
Essential Logic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Remains,
Organ,
Dead Boys,
Jeff Mills,
Black Sheep,
Rotary Connection,
Khruangbin,
Faraquet,
Sparks,
Stiv Bators,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
John Coltrane,
Parry Music,
Crispian St. Peters,
Theoretical Girls,
The Residents,
The Dirtbombs,
Zapp,
Toni Rubio,
John Cale,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scratch Acid,
Desert Stars,
UT,
Girls At Our Best!,
Andrew Hill,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David McCallum,
cv313,
Soul II Soul,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.