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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Minny Pops to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord 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 marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Chris Corsano,
Circle Jerks,
The Gories,
The Cramps,
The Slackers,
The Count Five,
Peter and Kerry,
MC5,
Blancmange,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Moon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Guru Guru,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fall,
The Happenings,
Juan Atkins,
Moss Icon,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Bobby Byrd,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Last Poets,
Duran Duran,
Fugazi,
Joensuu 1685,
A Certain Ratio,
Bob Dylan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marc Almond,
Colin Newman,
ABC,
Jacob Miller,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions,
Rosa Yemen,
Aural Exciters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bronski Beat,
Barbara Tucker,
The Young Rascals,
The Buckinghams,
the Germs,
Ten City,
Fatback Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scion,
Blossom Toes,
The Divine Comedy,
Amazonics,
Scratch Acid,
The Durutti Column,
Excepter,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Prince Buster,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.