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 Nauru and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lee Hazlewood to the jazz 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum 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 marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Fugs,
the Soft Cell,
The Dead C,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Remains,
Blossom Toes,
Pagans,
Con Funk Shun,
The Young Rascals,
Warsaw,
Moby Grape,
Sixth Finger,
Delta 5,
In Retrospect,
Tres Demented,
Joe Smooth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Slave,
These Immortal Souls,
T.S.O.L.,
Colin Newman,
Country Teasers,
Robert Görl,
Nils Olav,
The Motions,
Neil Young,
The Fall,
Angry Samoans,
Jacques Brel,
Toni Rubio,
MC5,
Gong,
Blake Baxter,
Mars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Bowie,
Lou Reed,
UT,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Graham Central Station,
Dawn Penn,
Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mojo Men,
Juan Atkins,
Deepchord,
Rod Modell,
Goldenarms,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Wasted Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
The Slits,
Mark Hollis,
Roy Ayers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flipper,
Wally Richardson,
Jesper Dahlback,
FM Einheit,
The Skatalites,
Public Image Ltd.,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.