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 Lithuania and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
Kenny Larkin,
Alison Limerick,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispian St. Peters,
Funkadelic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Sound,
Organ,
Ken Boothe,
Tommy Roe,
Eve St. Jones,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül,
Make Up,
Duran Duran,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
Alice Coltrane,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen,
Essential Logic,
The Gladiators,
Metal Thangz,
The Moody Blues,
UT,
Hoover,
The Detroit Cobras,
One Last Wish,
The Beau Brummels,
China Crisis,
Qualms,
Absolute Body Control,
Boogie Down Productions,
Peter & Gordon,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Womack,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
Zapp,
La Düsseldorf,
Oblivians,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gun Club,
Flamin' Groovies,
Royal Trux,
Toni Rubio,
Joy Division,
Whodini,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed,
Oneida,
Public Enemy,
The Happenings,
Banda Bassotti,
Reagan Youth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pagans,
The Remains,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.