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 Russia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 theremin 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '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 CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Brass Construction,
Joey Negro,
Fatback Band,
Essential Logic,
The Fortunes,
Magazine,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
Electric Prunes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Music Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
Roy Ayers,
Pierre Henry,
Dark Day,
Ohio Players,
Joe Smooth,
Amon Düül,
Chris Corsano,
Flipper,
Bobby Byrd,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eddi Front,
Derrick Morgan,
Scan 7,
The Happenings,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Johnny Clarke,
The Velvet Underground,
Gichy Dan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sam Rivers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pantaleimon,
The Misunderstood,
Amazonics,
Babytalk,
The Vogues,
Livin' Joy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dave Gahan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Visage,
MDC,
Albert Ayler,
Mars,
Qualms,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Average White Band,
The Gladiators,
Procol Harum,
Bauhaus,
DJ Style,
Unwound,
Rotary Connection,
Newcleus,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.