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 Antigua and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Judy Mowatt 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
The Fugs,
Metal Thangz,
Tim Buckley,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wolf Eyes,
Yaz,
Wally Richardson,
Roxy Music,
Todd Rundgren,
David Bowie,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
a-ha,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sixth Finger,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Motions,
Stiv Bators,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Anakelly,
Oneida,
The Red Krayola,
Robert Hood,
A Certain Ratio,
Roger Hodgson,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Soft Cell,
The Misunderstood,
Porter Ricks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Leonard Cohen,
Model 500,
Radio Birdman,
Lalann,
Funkadelic,
Gong,
LL Cool J,
Avey Tare,
Minutemen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Seeds,
Adolescents,
The Monks,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cowsills,
These Immortal Souls,
Neil Young,
Arcadia,
Chris & Cosey,
Rod Modell,
Junior Murvin,
Jacques Brel,
Half Japanese,
Aaron Thompson,
Maurizio,
Connie Case,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.