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 Macedonia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bill Wells to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Bananas,
Boz Scaggs,
Lightning Bolt,
Index,
The Happenings,
Avey Tare,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Infiniti,
Susan Cadogan,
Camouflage,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Spoonie Gee,
The Smiths,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Lou Christie,
The Cure,
Albert Ayler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Association,
The Fall,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Sheep,
The Real Kids,
Ten City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joyce Sims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jeff Mills,
The Knickerbockers,
Donald Byrd,
Underground Resistance,
Donny Hathaway,
Buzzcocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Leonard Cohen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Johnny Clarke,
Nik Kershaw,
Henry Cow,
The Invisible,
Tubeway Army,
Moebius,
Kool Moe Dee,
Icehouse,
Skarface,
Maurizio,
John Coltrane,
Easy Going,
Bad Manners,
A Flock of Seagulls,
OOIOO,
Eli Mardock,
Talk Talk,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.