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 Lebanon and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Terry Callier to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
The Neon Judgement,
Brick,
the Soft Cell,
Bootsy Collins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Juan Atkins,
Suburban Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
LL Cool J,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sound,
Neu!,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Happenings,
Leonard Cohen,
The Kinks,
Toni Rubio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Victims,
Ultravox,
Maurizio,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marvin Gaye,
Carl Craig,
Goldenarms,
Swans,
Loose Ends,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
Duran Duran,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Womack,
Livin' Joy,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Lakeside,
Kas Product,
Dual Sessions,
Harry Pussy,
Camouflage,
Bluetip,
The J.B.'s,
The Evens,
Stiv Bators,
The Move,
Index,
The Red Krayola,
The Count Five,
In Retrospect,
UT,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
the Bar-Kays,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crash Course in Science,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.