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 Luxembourg and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 James White and The Blacks to the dance 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
The Doors,
The American Breed,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Johnny Osbourne,
Little Man,
The Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Trumans Water,
Joe Finger,
Todd Rundgren,
Crooked Eye,
Symarip,
Pagans,
The Motions,
Make Up,
Cluster,
Basic Channel,
Eli Mardock,
Freddie Wadling,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Smoke,
Wally Richardson,
Organ,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gang of Four,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quantec,
Mr. Review,
Graham Central Station,
Motorama,
the Association,
The Divine Comedy,
Porter Ricks,
The Selecter,
Zero Boys,
T.S.O.L.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lee Hazlewood,
June Days,
Eve St. Jones,
Deakin,
Blake Baxter,
Brand Nubian,
The Neon Judgement,
Prince Buster,
Adolescents,
Main Source,
Fad Gadget,
Roxy Music,
Jandek,
Procol Harum,
The Blackbyrds,
Arab on Radar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joyce Sims,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Duran Duran,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Morten Harket,
Moby Grape,
Inner City,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.