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 Somalia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 crunk 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Grey Daturas,
Infiniti,
The Standells,
June Days,
Sonny Sharrock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Metal Thangz,
KRS-One,
Derrick Morgan,
Tim Buckley,
Sex Pistols,
The Dead C,
The Names,
Fat Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Hot Snakes,
Yusef Lateef,
The Walker Brothers,
The Black Dice,
Chrome,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Massinfluence,
The Angels of Light,
Monolake,
The Modern Lovers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yellowson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Motorama,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deakin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ten City,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Magazine,
Anthony Braxton,
Roxy Music,
Buzzcocks,
Wings,
Joe Smooth,
The Monochrome Set,
Tom Boy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moebius,
Altered Images,
The Tremeloes,
Ludus,
Marc Almond,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Little Man,
Gang Starr,
The Shadows of Knight,
Au Pairs,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.