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 Nepal and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Buckinghams to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a marimba 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 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Sound Behaviour,
Tres Demented,
Harry Pussy,
Black Pus,
Terry Callier,
Absolute Body Control,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kayak,
Marc Almond,
Scratch Acid,
Reuben Wilson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Spandau Ballet,
Zapp,
Boredoms,
Morten Harket,
Sugar Minott,
The Mummies,
Monolake,
Rakim,
The Black Dice,
Easy Going,
Interpol,
Soft Machine,
Fatback Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Darondo,
K-Klass,
Unwound,
The Real Kids,
Scion,
Kurtis Blow,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deakin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sister Nancy,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sun City Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
John Holt,
Tomorrow,
Liliput,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultra Naté,
Lalann,
The Fall,
Tom Boy,
Ultravox,
Minutemen,
Second Layer,
Swell Maps,
Heaven 17,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dead C,
Judy Mowatt,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.