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 Brazil and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Real Kids to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deakin,
The Walker Brothers,
Dark Day,
Porter Ricks,
Saccharine Trust,
Yellowson,
Dennis Brown,
Soft Machine,
Anthony Braxton,
Bauhaus,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron,
Derrick May,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Electric Prunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Judy Mowatt,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mad Mike,
Hot Snakes,
Rotary Connection,
The Count Five,
Subhumans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sexual Harrassment,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sixth Finger,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gang Starr,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
the Swans,
Eric Copeland,
Byron Stingily,
Pantytec,
The Real Kids,
The Modern Lovers,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeff Lynne,
The United States of America,
Model 500,
Alice Coltrane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Moleskins,
Eddi Front,
Warsaw,
Man Parrish,
Minny Pops,
Bronski Beat,
Television,
Pulsallama,
X-101,
Marc Almond,
Pagans,
X-Ray Spex,
Simply Red,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.