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 Czech Republic and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar 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 Soft Machine to the techno 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The Blues Magoos,
Mad Mike,
Trumans Water,
Isaac Hayes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Young Marble Giants,
The Index,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fluxion,
Brand Nubian,
Minutemen,
Man Eating Sloth,
Country Teasers,
Marvin Gaye,
Rakim,
Franke,
Tears for Fears,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eden Ahbez,
The Golliwogs,
Johnny Clarke,
Smog,
Intrusion,
Gang Green,
Big Daddy Kane,
Animal Collective,
Rapeman,
Suicide,
Sarah Menescal,
The Count Five,
Maurizio,
Pierre Henry,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang of Four,
Lou Christie,
The Electric Prunes,
Severed Heads,
X-Ray Spex,
June of 44,
Drexciya,
Angry Samoans,
Jawbox,
The Birthday Party,
Absolute Body Control,
the Human League,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
One Last Wish,
MDC,
Eve St. Jones,
Cluster,
Eric Copeland,
Lindisfarne,
Juan Atkins,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Roger Hodgson,
Main Source,
Excepter,
The Misunderstood,
Gong,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.