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 Ecuador and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dave Gahan to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin 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 mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marvin Gaye,
Glenn Branca,
Skriet,
Angry Samoans,
Mantronix,
The Grass Roots,
Magma,
Talk Talk,
A Certain Ratio,
Bob Dylan,
Boredoms,
Zapp,
Con Funk Shun,
Harry Pussy,
David Bowie,
Stetsasonic,
Vainqueur,
cv313,
The Fire Engines,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barbara Tucker,
Alice Coltrane,
The Moleskins,
Avey Tare,
The Victims,
The Buckinghams,
Subhumans,
The Birthday Party,
Liliput,
Jawbox,
Eurythmics,
Moebius,
Pulsallama,
Desert Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Supertramp,
Black Pus,
Aaron Thompson,
Andrew Hill,
The Kinks,
Althea and Donna,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cymande,
Fear,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fall,
Tommy Roe,
Carl Craig,
Dead Boys,
Sight & Sound,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kas Product,
The Dirtbombs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mad Mike,
The Electric Prunes,
Dual Sessions,
ABC,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sandy B,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.