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 Latvia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Fugazi to the disco 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Malaria!,
UT,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
The Grass Roots,
The Mojo Men,
Janne Schatter,
Popol Vuh,
Gong,
Unrelated Segments,
June of 44,
Agitation Free,
Camouflage,
Black Pus,
Prince Buster,
the Normal,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eurythmics,
AZ,
Sixth Finger,
Severed Heads,
Los Fastidios,
The Beau Brummels,
David Bowie,
Can,
Ohio Players,
Wally Richardson,
Supertramp,
Toni Rubio,
Maleditus Sound,
Liliput,
Alphaville,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gun Club,
The Residents,
Rekid,
Boredoms,
Desert Stars,
Warsaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moleskins,
The Pop Group,
Wings,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marine Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eric B and Rakim,
China Crisis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Surgeon,
These Immortal Souls,
Stiv Bators,
Carl Craig,
The Fugs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.