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 Thailand and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Lee Hazlewood to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a güiro 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 linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Iggy Pop,
Fugazi,
Boredoms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Depeche Mode,
K-Klass,
The Zeros,
Alison Limerick,
Liliput,
Kevin Saunderson,
Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
The Leaves,
New York Dolls,
Livin' Joy,
The Real Kids,
Ice-T,
Joe Smooth,
The Gap Band,
Unwound,
Byron Stingily,
Aaron Thompson,
Darondo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mad Mike,
David Bowie,
Rufus Thomas,
Faraquet,
Soulsonic Force,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Monks,
Cameo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Young Rascals,
Public Enemy,
Cheater Slicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Archie Shepp,
Sister Nancy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Raincoats,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Red Krayola,
Josef K,
Colin Newman,
Ten City,
Al Stewart,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
the Germs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Slits,
R.M.O.,
Lakeside,
U.S. Maple,
The Motions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Amon Düül II,
Reagan Youth,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.