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 Hungary and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Rakim to the disco 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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dennis Brown,
Banda Bassotti,
Davy DMX,
The Techniques,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Standells,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pussy Galore,
The Evens,
the Germs,
Aaron Thompson,
Matthew Bourne,
Blossom Toes,
Outsiders,
EPMD,
LL Cool J,
Bill Near,
A Certain Ratio,
Sixth Finger,
Skaos,
Rapeman,
Porter Ricks,
Bob Dylan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Arthur Verocai,
Eddi Front,
Cecil Taylor,
Cheater Slicks,
Chrome,
Ultravox,
Nas,
X-102,
Scott Walker,
Gang Starr,
Althea and Donna,
The New Christs,
The Grass Roots,
New York Dolls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dead Boys,
The Dead C,
Vladislav Delay,
June of 44,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oneida,
Con Funk Shun,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fall,
Television,
The Gories,
Neu!,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Faraquet,
Minor Threat,
Trumans Water,
Lower 48,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.