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 Gabon and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb 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 Alphaville to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Unwound,
The Slackers,
The Selecter,
MC5,
Gichy Dan,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalann,
David Axelrod,
Barrington Levy,
Make Up,
Lower 48,
Icehouse,
The Move,
The Monochrome Set,
The Doobie Brothers,
Deadbeat,
John Lydon,
Gang Starr,
Neu!,
Anthony Braxton,
Hashim,
Ituana,
Ken Boothe,
R.M.O.,
Sex Pistols,
The Gladiators,
Swans,
Aaron Thompson,
Maleditus Sound,
Faust,
Shoche,
Black Bananas,
Minor Threat,
Zapp,
Pantytec,
Visage,
Throbbing Gristle,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Sound,
Wasted Youth,
Eden Ahbez,
Agent Orange,
The New Christs,
the Germs,
Erykah Badu,
Bob Dylan,
Pierre Henry,
Reagan Youth,
The Buckinghams,
Scientists,
Sällskapet,
The Black Dice,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gun Club,
Danielle Patucci,
Matthew Halsall,
The Vogues,
Eric Copeland,
Jeff Lynne,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.