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 Belgium and from Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the grunge 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Television Personalities,
Accadde A,
Maurizio,
Warren Ellis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ludus,
The Move,
Animal Collective,
The Pretty Things,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Schoolly D,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cowsills,
Guru Guru,
Can,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Grass Roots,
Popol Vuh,
Funky Four + One,
Boz Scaggs,
Slave,
The Pop Group,
JFA,
David McCallum,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brass Construction,
Dawn Penn,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soulsonic Force,
Erykah Badu,
Underground Resistance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Electric Prunes,
the Association,
Mr. Review,
Icehouse,
Negative Approach,
Reuben Wilson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Goldenarms,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Matthew Halsall,
John Foxx,
The Slits,
Carl Craig,
Shoche,
Pantaleimon,
Gichy Dan,
Ultravox,
Camouflage,
Lalo Schifrin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pulsallama,
Albert Ayler,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.