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 Guatemala and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sex Pistols to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lakeside,
Peter & Gordon,
Pierre Henry,
One Last Wish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Bananas,
The Names,
Donald Byrd,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cramps,
Rufus Thomas,
the Normal,
OOIOO,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scan 7,
the Fania All-Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sex Pistols,
Barry Ungar,
Shoche,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Barracudas,
Ohio Players,
Fad Gadget,
Kas Product,
Neu!,
Stetsasonic,
Fela Kuti,
Kenny Larkin,
Metal Thangz,
Toni Rubio,
Duran Duran,
Ten City,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sparks,
The Mojo Men,
Joe Finger,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mr. Review,
Joensuu 1685,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Lou Christie,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Big Daddy Kane,
Accadde A,
Connie Case,
Brand Nubian,
The Gladiators,
John Holt,
The Angels of Light,
China Crisis,
Barbara Tucker,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.