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 Algeria and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Flash Fearless,
The Mojo Men,
Darondo,
Neil Young,
Wire,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crispy Ambulance,
DJ Style,
Nico,
Public Enemy,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Arcadia,
Clear Light,
Skarface,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bronski Beat,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pole,
Simply Red,
Lindisfarne,
Stiv Bators,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Holt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ponytail,
Lyres,
Moss Icon,
Black Flag,
Television,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed,
The Birthday Party,
Bob Dylan,
Blancmange,
Reagan Youth,
Infiniti,
David Axelrod,
Leonard Cohen,
Brand Nubian,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
Thee Headcoats,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dark Day,
Newcleus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Urselle,
Yazoo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Divine Comedy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bootsy Collins,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.