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 Portugal and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Stooges to the grime 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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fortunes,
Electric Prunes,
Motorama,
Guru Guru,
the Normal,
The Knickerbockers,
The Blackbyrds,
Sight & Sound,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
T.S.O.L.,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultravox,
Wire,
The Slackers,
Gong,
Jandek,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ituana,
The Music Machine,
Pagans,
Deakin,
The Fall,
Gerry Rafferty,
Minny Pops,
Malaria!,
Black Pus,
The Grass Roots,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boz Scaggs,
Soft Cell,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lungfish,
Isaac Hayes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Pop Group,
F. McDonald,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mo-Dettes,
The Star Department,
Letta Mbulu,
Minnie Riperton,
Metal Thangz,
Bob Dylan,
Marine Girls,
The New Christs,
The Five Americans,
Scrapy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fat Boys,
Ronnie Foster,
New Order,
Rufus Thomas,
Nik Kershaw,
Altered Images,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Monks,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.