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 South Sudan and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Pus to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin 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 marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Inner City,
Cal Tjader,
Hot Snakes,
Whodini,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Young Rascals,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Standells,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blossom Toes,
The Martian,
Suicide,
Supertramp,
Rosa Yemen,
John Foxx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nik Kershaw,
Das Ding,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Babytalk,
The Birthday Party,
Los Fastidios,
Colin Newman,
Harmonia,
Ohio Players,
Fugazi,
La Düsseldorf,
Alphaville,
Japan,
The Trojans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
D'Angelo,
The Kinks,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Five Americans,
The Techniques,
Duran Duran,
Drexciya,
Nils Olav,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang of Four,
The Blackbyrds,
the Human League,
Slave,
Pylon,
Slick Rick,
Lou Christie,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blake Baxter,
Amon Düül,
The Misunderstood,
The Velvet Underground,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wolf Eyes,
Warsaw,
Vladislav Delay,
Lightning Bolt,
Erykah Badu,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.