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 Kazakhstan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Electric Prunes to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling 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?
Gang Starr,
Popol Vuh,
Camberwell Now,
Chris Corsano,
The Litter,
Joe Smooth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerri Chandler,
Pantaleimon,
Kayak,
The Move,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eli Mardock,
CMW,
the Normal,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Icehouse,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rakim,
Black Flag,
June Days,
Davy DMX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Suburban Knight,
Cal Tjader,
Gichy Dan,
K-Klass,
Y Pants,
Symarip,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
B.T. Express,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Reed,
Arcadia,
Harry Pussy,
The Pop Group,
The Stooges,
The Grass Roots,
Donald Byrd,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eve St. Jones,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Liliput,
The Slits,
Deadbeat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Easy Going,
Trumans Water,
DJ Style,
The Seeds,
The Monks,
Mark Hollis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Das Ding,
Altered Images,
John Lydon,
ABC,
Johnny Clarke,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.