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 Mongolia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grunge 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Cale,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gastr Del Sol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pere Ubu,
Albert Ayler,
Von Mondo,
Oneida,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Sherman,
Blossom Toes,
The Pretty Things,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crime,
Can,
Smog,
Brand Nubian,
Barry Ungar,
Faust,
Harmonia,
DJ Sneak,
Funkadelic,
The Motions,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Fire Engines,
Jerry's Kids,
Prince Buster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Boredoms,
Sister Nancy,
Circle Jerks,
Rites of Spring,
Ultra Naté,
Shuggie Otis,
The Index,
Youth Brigade,
Bronski Beat,
DJ Style,
The Leaves,
New Age Steppers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cymande,
FM Einheit,
The Barracudas,
Excepter,
Black Sheep,
John Holt,
Moby Grape,
Sun City Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Slave,
Skarface,
The Red Krayola,
The Moleskins,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.