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 Saudi Arabia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the rap 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar 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 synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Ossler,
Camberwell Now,
Tears for Fears,
Pierre Henry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The American Breed,
Aswad,
Whodini,
The Velvet Underground,
Cymande,
The Selecter,
Eurythmics,
Smog,
Brothers Johnson,
Eric Dolphy,
Royal Trux,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Main Source,
E-Dancer,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
David Bowie,
T. Rex,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
Yellowson,
Gichy Dan,
Boz Scaggs,
Intrusion,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marmalade,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gap Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Rod Modell,
the Normal,
New York Dolls,
Kaleidoscope,
Lebanon Hanover,
Janne Schatter,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
cv313,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slick Rick,
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Crooked Eye,
Kayak,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
The Litter,
Minutemen,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.