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 Azerbaijan and from Mumbai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Interpol to the disco 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Maleditus Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wings,
Jimmy McGriff,
Q and Not U,
Robert Hood,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Move,
Bang On A Can,
Minny Pops,
Intrusion,
the Bar-Kays,
Nation of Ulysses,
Brothers Johnson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Doobie Brothers,
Angry Samoans,
Neil Young,
the Soft Cell,
Prince Buster,
Erasure,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bob Dylan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hardrive,
Nico,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Oneida,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deepchord,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ossler,
The Cure,
Janne Schatter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lower 48,
Spoonie Gee,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
This Heat,
Simply Red,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Misunderstood,
Camberwell Now,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blossom Toes,
Popol Vuh,
Jandek,
Outsiders,
Q65,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott Heron,
Reagan Youth,
The Cramps,
Chris Corsano,
Johnny Clarke,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.