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 Colombia and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
The Beau Brummels,
Donald Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
Country Teasers,
X-Ray Spex,
Gil Scott Heron,
David McCallum,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Section 25,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang Starr,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scott Walker,
Graham Central Station,
Soft Cell,
Oneida,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Mills,
Faust,
Kerri Chandler,
KRS-One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Dirtbombs,
Marvin Gaye,
Intrusion,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Grass Roots,
Supertramp,
Sexual Harrassment,
U.S. Maple,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Vogues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Age Steppers,
The Black Dice,
the Germs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Groovy Waters,
Lalann,
The J.B.'s,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Misunderstood,
Skaos,
Interpol,
Mad Mike,
The Alarm Clocks,
Toni Rubio,
Kurtis Blow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Searchers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Audionom,
Jawbox,
Kayak,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.