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 Congo and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Outsiders to the electroclash 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Symarip,
Urselle,
This Heat,
Tubeway Army,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Con Funk Shun,
Bob Dylan,
Sparks,
L. Decosne,
Warsaw,
Dawn Penn,
Subhumans,
Lou Reed,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Birthday Party,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Alice Coltrane,
Duran Duran,
Monolake,
Maurizio,
Aaron Thompson,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fugs,
Hashim,
Jeff Mills,
The Martian,
World's Most,
Lyres,
Negative Approach,
Erasure,
Pagans,
Nas,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls,
Skriet,
Scientists,
The Selecter,
Spandau Ballet,
Toni Rubio,
Loose Ends,
Arthur Verocai,
Maleditus Sound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Pus,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
Organ,
The Cramps,
New Order,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Invisible,
Newcleus,
Judy Mowatt,
Saccharine Trust,
KRS-One,
Interpol,
Rites of Spring,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.