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 Marshall Islands and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Wolf Eyes,
Porter Ricks,
Whodini,
Judy Mowatt,
the Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
The Remains,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Wyatt,
Tears for Fears,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Siglo XX,
Audionom,
Traffic Nightmare,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
Ken Boothe,
Spandau Ballet,
The Angels of Light,
The Skatalites,
Todd Rundgren,
the Normal,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gladiators,
The Gun Club,
David Bowie,
Gang of Four,
A Certain Ratio,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Janne Schatter,
Supertramp,
Angry Samoans,
The Fugs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mars,
Jawbox,
The Dead C,
Television,
The Red Krayola,
The Real Kids,
Gong,
KRS-One,
Television Personalities,
Darondo,
Excepter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxette,
Ice-T,
Pet Shop Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dark Day,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eden Ahbez,
Q65,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Sherman,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.