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 Poland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Tom Verlaine 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 World's Most to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Nick Fraelich,
Boz Scaggs,
Grey Daturas,
The Blues Magoos,
Royal Trux,
Harpers Bizarre,
ABC,
Nico,
Ituana,
Lakeside,
Radiopuhelimet,
Amon Düül,
Zero Boys,
Newcleus,
Sparks,
The New Christs,
CMW,
Electric Prunes,
The Angels of Light,
Bill Wells,
The Move,
Hasil Adkins,
Matthew Halsall,
Sister Nancy,
New York Dolls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Monks,
Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Icehouse,
Pere Ubu,
The Beau Brummels,
Agent Orange,
The Happenings,
Section 25,
Television Personalities,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sarah Menescal,
Sandy B,
Soft Machine,
Index,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Franke,
Scott Walker,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marc Almond,
Terrestrial Tones,
Todd Rundgren,
Pagans,
Nils Olav,
Jawbox,
New Age Steppers,
The Trojans,
Sexual Harrassment,
LL Cool J,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boredoms,
Nirvana,
Peter & Gordon,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.