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 Cyprus and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the funk 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig,
The Kinks,
Wire,
The Smoke,
Ornette Coleman,
Roger Hodgson,
Camberwell Now,
The Durutti Column,
Index,
Brick,
Crooked Eye,
Peter & Gordon,
Sarah Menescal,
Pylon,
Mars,
Skaos,
Alison Limerick,
Matthew Bourne,
The Doors,
Marc Almond,
Harmonia,
Outsiders,
Scrapy,
Niagra,
Massinfluence,
T.S.O.L.,
Trumans Water,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Offenders,
Stockholm Monsters,
Moss Icon,
The Stooges,
Q and Not U,
Oneida,
Aural Exciters,
Marine Girls,
Erasure,
Al Stewart,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ossler,
the Soft Cell,
The Tremeloes,
Spoonie Gee,
Prince Buster,
Rosa Yemen,
John Holt,
Crime,
Blancmange,
Sexual Harrassment,
New Age Steppers,
Los Fastidios,
The Blackbyrds,
Organ,
Ohio Players,
Soft Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Stetsasonic,
The Move,
Wally Richardson,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.