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 Haiti and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eve St. Jones to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Pussy Galore,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sixth Finger,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cal Tjader,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fat Boys,
DNA,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Motions,
Cameo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David McCallum,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kas Product,
Bobby Sherman,
Tomorrow,
Unwound,
Public Enemy,
Moebius,
Fatback Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
E-Dancer,
Slave,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Reuben Wilson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dark Day,
Pulsallama,
Crispian St. Peters,
Danielle Patucci,
Underground Resistance,
The Selecter,
The Associates,
Harry Pussy,
Soul II Soul,
Ten City,
The Music Machine,
Grey Daturas,
Urselle,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Procol Harum,
Joey Negro,
Delta 5,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Terry Callier,
Alton Ellis,
Pantaleimon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The J.B.'s,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Soft Cell,
Skarface,
Section 25,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Severed Heads,
Radio Birdman,
Marine Girls,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.