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 Swaziland and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Anakelly to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator 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 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
Roger Hodgson,
The Last Poets,
Radio Birdman,
Nik Kershaw,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Christie,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Quantec,
Yazoo,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Angels of Light,
the Sonics,
Warsaw,
Symarip,
Man Eating Sloth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Michelle Simonal,
The Move,
Gichy Dan,
Hasil Adkins,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Buzzcocks,
Boredoms,
The Doors,
Sex Pistols,
Glenn Branca,
Aloha Tigers,
Audionom,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Electric Prunes,
Technova,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Danielle Patucci,
Toni Rubio,
Circle Jerks,
Barrington Levy,
Moby Grape,
Radiohead,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Smoke,
The Raincoats,
The Litter,
Ronan,
Organ,
Vainqueur,
Robert Görl,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pussy Galore,
Y Pants,
Liliput,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
John Lydon,
Oblivians,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alphaville,
Pagans,
EPMD,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Durutti Column,
Cluster,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.