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 Korea North and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 Roxy Music to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Soft Cell,
Icehouse,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jeff Mills,
Motorama,
Livin' Joy,
Bush Tetras,
Angry Samoans,
Laurel Aitken,
Erasure,
Jawbox,
Barbara Tucker,
Barrington Levy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Robert Wyatt,
This Heat,
X-102,
Soulsonic Force,
Eurythmics,
Flipper,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Associates,
Black Bananas,
AZ,
Inner City,
cv313,
The Moody Blues,
Joy Division,
The Walker Brothers,
Joe Smooth,
The Seeds,
Derrick May,
These Immortal Souls,
Wally Richardson,
Simply Red,
Television Personalities,
New York Dolls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suicide,
The Standells,
The Gun Club,
Newcleus,
Wasted Youth,
Fad Gadget,
Heaven 17,
Kerri Chandler,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Sherman,
Bluetip,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rod Modell,
Nils Olav,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Shoche,
Nas,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Litter,
Ten City,
The Durutti Column,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.