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 Croatia and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Detroit Cobras to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Wake,
Prince Buster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Glenn Branca,
Chrome,
Von Mondo,
Tubeway Army,
Howard Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Litter,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mr. Review,
Wire,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
The Fugs,
Negative Approach,
David McCallum,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Erykah Badu,
Wally Richardson,
The Martian,
Darondo,
The Names,
Terry Callier,
Magma,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Reagan Youth,
Babytalk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Funkadelic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Average White Band,
H. Thieme,
Blancmange,
Chris & Cosey,
Shuggie Otis,
Audionom,
the Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
Bad Manners,
Black Sheep,
Avey Tare,
The Techniques,
Hoover,
Davy DMX,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zero Boys,
Zapp,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Gang Starr,
Nas,
Bluetip,
DNA,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.