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 Ethiopia and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet 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 Spandau Ballet to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mad Mike,
the Human League,
Freddie Wadling,
Aural Exciters,
Clear Light,
Aswad,
Urselle,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultravox,
Cymande,
Scan 7,
The Neon Judgement,
Desert Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Crash Course in Science,
The United States of America,
Sex Pistols,
T. Rex,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smoke,
The Cowsills,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
The Names,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Porter Ricks,
A Certain Ratio,
DJ Style,
David Axelrod,
World's Most,
Deepchord,
Lightning Bolt,
Model 500,
The Doors,
Minor Threat,
kango's stein massive,
Dave Gahan,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-102,
Sam Rivers,
Fugazi,
The Human League,
Roxy Music,
Colin Newman,
Ten City,
Lindisfarne,
Mr. Review,
Ossler,
Vladislav Delay,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cramps,
Scratch Acid,
Tomorrow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Average White Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Theoretical Girls,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.