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 Czech Republic and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Television to the funk 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Youth Brigade,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Althea and Donna,
Depeche Mode,
Angry Samoans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Agitation Free,
Roy Ayers,
Hot Snakes,
David Axelrod,
Joy Division,
Quantec,
Television Personalities,
Alison Limerick,
Crime,
Skriet,
Monks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
Gerry Rafferty,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Misunderstood,
Tres Demented,
Eric Dolphy,
The Selecter,
Peter & Gordon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Wyatt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cameo,
Bobby Sherman,
Suburban Knight,
Suicide,
The Human League,
Young Marble Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blancmange,
Avey Tare,
Malaria!,
The Zeros,
Deadbeat,
Niagra,
World's Most,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radio Birdman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fluxion,
Nik Kershaw,
John Lydon,
Jacob Miller,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Invisible,
Yusef Lateef,
Donny Hathaway,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.