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 Saudi Arabia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron 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 Groovy Waters 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer 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 organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hardrive,
Echospace,
Minnie Riperton,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Albert Ayler,
Pussy Galore,
The Raincoats,
Marmalade,
Soulsonic Force,
Mad Mike,
Cymande,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deakin,
Essential Logic,
Nas,
Mission of Burma,
Schoolly D,
The Star Department,
Gong,
Maleditus Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Q65,
Crash Course in Science,
Index,
Radio Birdman,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Gladiators,
Blake Baxter,
Tim Buckley,
kango's stein massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ornette Coleman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rosa Yemen,
The Sonics,
Soul II Soul,
Johnny Clarke,
Khruangbin,
Lucky Dragons,
London Community Gospel Choir,
a-ha,
Skriet,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
The Blackbyrds,
Eric B and Rakim,
ABBA,
The United States of America,
Delon & Dalcan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Coltrane,
The Smiths,
The Gun Club,
Monolake,
The Kinks,
Depeche Mode,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.