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 Fiji and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba 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 Bang On A Can to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord 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 guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Porter Ricks,
Fugazi,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mantronix,
The Vogues,
Danielle Patucci,
The Shadows of Knight,
Drive Like Jehu,
Trumans Water,
Spoonie Gee,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Sherman,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Leonard Cohen,
Minor Threat,
This Heat,
Desert Stars,
The Birthday Party,
Ludus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Warren Ellis,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Prince Buster,
The Count Five,
Camouflage,
David Axelrod,
Kerrie Biddell,
Negative Approach,
Hoover,
Matthew Bourne,
Section 25,
Sonny Sharrock,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
Juan Atkins,
Unwound,
Bluetip,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mars,
Banda Bassotti,
Deadbeat,
Mad Mike,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Morten Harket,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
The Misunderstood,
Lindisfarne,
The Raincoats,
Neu!,
La Düsseldorf,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Guru Guru,
Aswad,
Marmalade,
The Last Poets,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.