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 Paraguay and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Groovy Waters to the grime 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and a snare 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 rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
The Smoke,
Ten City,
E-Dancer,
The Slits,
Gerry Rafferty,
Banda Bassotti,
Amon Düül,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Mills,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Golliwogs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cluster,
Tears for Fears,
Cybotron,
Wire,
Boz Scaggs,
Mission of Burma,
cv313,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Divine Comedy,
Lakeside,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boogie Down Productions,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
OOIOO,
Colin Newman,
Mantronix,
Janne Schatter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scott Walker,
Spandau Ballet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Martian,
Kas Product,
Alphaville,
Bad Manners,
The Electric Prunes,
Bang On A Can,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Monks,
Robert Hood,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sun City Girls,
The Knickerbockers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
Crime,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anthony Braxton,
Howard Jones,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.