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 Tanzania and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Eve St. Jones to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tubeway Army,
Drexciya,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter & Gordon,
Eve St. Jones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Porter Ricks,
Donald Byrd,
Lyres,
H. Thieme,
Ornette Coleman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Girls At Our Best!,
Panda Bear,
the Germs,
The Electric Prunes,
These Immortal Souls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Moebius,
Negative Approach,
Sixth Finger,
Groovy Waters,
Monks,
PIL,
Scott Walker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Human League,
Danielle Patucci,
Brick,
Lee Hazlewood,
Underground Resistance,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fugazi,
Hasil Adkins,
Von Mondo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cluster,
Yusef Lateef,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Neu!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Boz Scaggs,
Quadrant,
Drive Like Jehu,
Loose Ends,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donny Hathaway,
Lalann,
Unrelated Segments,
F. McDonald,
Delta 5,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.