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 Venezuela and from Jakarta.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Outsiders to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer 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 güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Fela Kuti,
Khruangbin,
Ossler,
Joy Division,
Sister Nancy,
Danielle Patucci,
Jerry's Kids,
Ken Boothe,
Minutemen,
Hoover,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Malaria!,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
China Crisis,
Soulsonic Force,
Metal Thangz,
Minor Threat,
The J.B.'s,
X-102,
Swans,
Pulsallama,
Jawbox,
The Beau Brummels,
B.T. Express,
Lee Hazlewood,
Monks,
The Standells,
Slick Rick,
Fat Boys,
The Black Dice,
Sam Rivers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Move,
Moby Grape,
Ponytail,
Darondo,
Grauzone,
Roxette,
PIL,
Nas,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Quando Quango,
Nils Olav,
Yellowson,
Sex Pistols,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Buckinghams,
ABBA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Massinfluence,
Vainqueur,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sound Behaviour,
Young Marble Giants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.