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 Solomon Islands and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Audionom to the funk 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Das Ding,
Country Teasers,
Public Enemy,
T. Rex,
Patti Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Index,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dave Gahan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Hot Snakes,
Marine Girls,
Severed Heads,
Symarip,
Bauhaus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Desert Stars,
Young Marble Giants,
Panda Bear,
John Coltrane,
La Düsseldorf,
Harry Pussy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Make Up,
The Cure,
The Durutti Column,
Black Flag,
Amon Düül,
Jeff Lynne,
The Music Machine,
Rhythm & Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Model 500,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Golliwogs,
Thompson Twins,
kango's stein massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
X-Ray Spex,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ponytail,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Slackers,
The Last Poets,
The Knickerbockers,
Saccharine Trust,
David Axelrod,
Au Pairs,
Television,
Fear,
Camouflage,
Maurizio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Flamin' Groovies,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Busters,
Hoover,
R.M.O.,
Albert Ayler,
Los Fastidios,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.