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 Slovenia and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar 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 New Age Steppers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer 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 harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
The Slackers,
Lou Christie,
One Last Wish,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scion,
Lakeside,
JFA,
Ken Boothe,
Hasil Adkins,
Outsiders,
T.S.O.L.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kenny Larkin,
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Boredoms,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cameo,
John Cale,
The Skatalites,
The Neon Judgement,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
Harmonia,
Radio Birdman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cymande,
Sex Pistols,
Yazoo,
Iggy Pop,
Alison Limerick,
Donny Hathaway,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mad Mike,
X-Ray Spex,
Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Angry Samoans,
Scrapy,
Surgeon,
Pylon,
Thee Headcoats,
Idris Muhammad,
The Evens,
Lebanon Hanover,
Harry Pussy,
Oblivians,
Fad Gadget,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Swans,
The Smiths,
The Knickerbockers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pussy Galore,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.