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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Rites of Spring to the grunge 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres 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 sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deepchord,
Panda Bear,
The Dead C,
Cheater Slicks,
Moby Grape,
Juan Atkins,
Carl Craig,
New Age Steppers,
Jacques Brel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Todd Rundgren,
The Evens,
Lebanon Hanover,
Magma,
The Last Poets,
Frankie Knuckles,
Television,
Nik Kershaw,
Fluxion,
Echospace,
Procol Harum,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Searchers,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Electric Prunes,
Byron Stingily,
The Smoke,
The Techniques,
Theoretical Girls,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Bar-Kays,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pantytec,
Excepter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Velvet Underground,
Los Fastidios,
Jimmy McGriff,
Hardrive,
Minnie Riperton,
The Remains,
Michelle Simonal,
The Cure,
Ronan,
Basic Channel,
The Golliwogs,
The Detroit Cobras,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brick,
Cybotron,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stetsasonic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rotary Connection,
Marine Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Von Mondo,
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.