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 .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Piero Umiliani to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
DJ Style,
Technova,
Todd Terry,
Heaven 17,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Durutti Column,
Minnie Riperton,
ABBA,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeff Mills,
Goldenarms,
Can,
The Count Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eddi Front,
Livin' Joy,
L. Decosne,
The Dirtbombs,
T. Rex,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lyres,
The Gap Band,
PIL,
The Moleskins,
The Fortunes,
Bauhaus,
Alton Ellis,
Radio Birdman,
Ossler,
Michelle Simonal,
Reagan Youth,
Quando Quango,
Sun Ra,
The Birthday Party,
Letta Mbulu,
Suicide,
The Vogues,
Talk Talk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mandrill,
Rites of Spring,
Brick,
Carl Craig,
Johnny Osbourne,
Little Man,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Alice Coltrane,
Von Mondo,
Aloha Tigers,
The Invisible,
Eden Ahbez,
Quantec,
Laurel Aitken,
KRS-One,
The Monks,
The Last Poets,
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.