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 Libya and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Curtis Mayfield 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 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 arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jacob Miller,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mars,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Joensuu 1685,
Marmalade,
Procol Harum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nick Fraelich,
Stereo Dub,
Don Cherry,
Robert Görl,
B.T. Express,
The Birthday Party,
Monolake,
Sixth Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Zapp,
Barbara Tucker,
Drive Like Jehu,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Duran Duran,
Audionom,
the Human League,
The Divine Comedy,
Ludus,
The Motions,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Toasters,
The Remains,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nirvana,
Khruangbin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Groovy Waters,
Wolf Eyes,
Althea and Donna,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dark Day,
Black Bananas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bootsy Collins,
Derrick Morgan,
EPMD,
The Moody Blues,
Henry Cow,
Fat Boys,
The Wake,
Iggy Pop,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pylon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.