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 Finland and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 T. Rex to the rap 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a marimba 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 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Swans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
New York Dolls,
Alton Ellis,
Depeche Mode,
Erasure,
Khruangbin,
Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Young Marble Giants,
Gang of Four,
Lyres,
Chrome,
The Gories,
Graham Central Station,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
June of 44,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kerri Chandler,
Crooked Eye,
Barrington Levy,
Pussy Galore,
The Mummies,
Man Eating Sloth,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aloha Tigers,
Procol Harum,
Bad Manners,
Minnie Riperton,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roxy Music,
Sarah Menescal,
X-102,
Bang On A Can,
X-101,
Skaos,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soft Machine,
Flipper,
Flamin' Groovies,
Joensuu 1685,
Gichy Dan,
Jacques Brel,
The Divine Comedy,
Das Ding,
Fat Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
OOIOO,
Aaron Thompson,
DJ Sneak,
The Doobie Brothers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lungfish,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.