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 Malta and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cowsills,
Desert Stars,
Gichy Dan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Amon Düül,
the Slits,
The Cramps,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Television,
The Gap Band,
MDC,
Dual Sessions,
The Gories,
Boredoms,
Pulsallama,
Symarip,
The Detroit Cobras,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
JFA,
The Monochrome Set,
Lyres,
Slick Rick,
Loose Ends,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sugar Minott,
The Vogues,
Television Personalities,
Mantronix,
Fear,
Tomorrow,
Royal Trux,
Schoolly D,
Banda Bassotti,
T.S.O.L.,
D'Angelo,
David Bowie,
The Fire Engines,
Pole,
Yellowson,
Oneida,
The Victims,
Unwound,
Drexciya,
The Mojo Men,
Grauzone,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Flag,
Thee Headcoats,
Vladislav Delay,
The Durutti Column,
Intrusion,
Hashim,
Marine Girls,
Ludus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Michelle Simonal,
Supertramp,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.