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 Uruguay and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Subhumans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Motorama,
The Invisible,
Cheater Slicks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gladiators,
Sister Nancy,
Aural Exciters,
Tubeway Army,
The Fugs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
D'Angelo,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Beau Brummels,
The Electric Prunes,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Pharoah Sanders,
Simply Red,
Urselle,
Junior Murvin,
Connie Case,
Skaos,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül II,
Model 500,
The Slits,
Silicon Teens,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pere Ubu,
The Cowsills,
Inner City,
Underground Resistance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pierre Henry,
Henry Cow,
Wings,
Fatback Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roxy Music,
Fugazi,
Ten City,
The Neon Judgement,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tres Demented,
Jandek,
Trumans Water,
The Pretty Things,
F. McDonald,
MC5,
Cluster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Little Man,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.