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 Burkina and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 The Walker Brothers to the disco 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
The Misunderstood,
L. Decosne,
Ten City,
Scientists,
Bauhaus,
Das Ding,
The Black Dice,
Lakeside,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pussy Galore,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
Ultra Naté,
The Durutti Column,
kango's stein massive,
PIL,
Boz Scaggs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Panda Bear,
The Modern Lovers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eden Ahbez,
Lebanon Hanover,
Niagra,
Kurtis Blow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Derrick May,
The Dead C,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cal Tjader,
Q and Not U,
The Leaves,
Gang Green,
Black Moon,
Jacques Brel,
Joensuu 1685,
Popol Vuh,
the Germs,
Gang of Four,
Donny Hathaway,
Wolf Eyes,
Anakelly,
Bill Wells,
Scan 7,
Barbara Tucker,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Searchers,
The J.B.'s,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Junior Murvin,
John Lydon,
Tim Buckley,
Hasil Adkins,
The Knickerbockers,
Soft Cell,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.