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 Cyprus and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Names to the grime 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jacques Brel,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tim Buckley,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Kinks,
Mars,
Slave,
Make Up,
Ronan,
Soft Cell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ludus,
Bobby Sherman,
Los Fastidios,
Skriet,
Sugar Minott,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Agitation Free,
Anakelly,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brick,
Public Enemy,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Angry Samoans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Electric Prunes,
Rod Modell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Agent Orange,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fire Engines,
X-101,
Bang On A Can,
The Wake,
The Smoke,
Funkadelic,
Reuben Wilson,
Japan,
The American Breed,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Offenders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
UT,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Parry Music,
Spandau Ballet,
Camouflage,
Zapp,
The Gories,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gabor Szabo,
Mission of Burma,
Amon Düül II,
Reagan Youth,
Hashim,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.