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 Nicaragua and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Saints to the punk 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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Nico,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lalo Schifrin,
Albert Ayler,
The Grass Roots,
The Real Kids,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Donny Hathaway,
Pylon,
Masters at Work,
Scratch Acid,
The Smoke,
Minor Threat,
Oneida,
Fad Gadget,
Stetsasonic,
a-ha,
John Cale,
The Fortunes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Circle Jerks,
Silicon Teens,
The Blackbyrds,
China Crisis,
Main Source,
New Order,
Yusef Lateef,
Patti Smith,
Lebanon Hanover,
The American Breed,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
L. Decosne,
Man Eating Sloth,
Quadrant,
Average White Band,
Slick Rick,
Infiniti,
Marine Girls,
The Angels of Light,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Electric Prunes,
Hardrive,
Don Cherry,
the Germs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Martian,
Moss Icon,
Jacob Miller,
Fat Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Desert Stars,
The Trojans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Black Bananas,
Niagra,
Fugazi,
Rufus Thomas,
Aswad,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.