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 Indonesia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cluster 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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba 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 spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Fluxion,
The Misunderstood,
The Pretty Things,
One Last Wish,
Kurtis Blow,
The Moleskins,
Porter Ricks,
Subhumans,
Minor Threat,
Technova,
the Bar-Kays,
the Normal,
Make Up,
Dennis Brown,
The Blackbyrds,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fugs,
Sugar Minott,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Outsiders,
The Cramps,
Althea and Donna,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Index,
Warren Ellis,
Roxy Music,
Severed Heads,
David Bowie,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stereo Dub,
The Five Americans,
Letta Mbulu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Sherman,
Sparks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tommy Roe,
Blake Baxter,
Eli Mardock,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Quando Quango,
Amazonics,
Hot Snakes,
Archie Shepp,
The Doobie Brothers,
Shoche,
Lightning Bolt,
Mo-Dettes,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Wells,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Trojans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Charles Mingus,
Main Source,
Royal Trux,
Isaac Hayes,
The Gladiators,
Parry Music,
JFA,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.