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 Korea North and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 Nils Olav to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
AZ,
Japan,
The Buckinghams,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Christie,
Dawn Penn,
The Human League,
T.S.O.L.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Blues Magoos,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scrapy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Faraquet,
Brand Nubian,
Agitation Free,
Stiv Bators,
Ossler,
Bauhaus,
Leonard Cohen,
Sixth Finger,
Motorama,
New Order,
kango's stein massive,
The Moleskins,
Q65,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crime,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grey Daturas,
John Foxx,
Rakim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marc Almond,
Ituana,
Jerry's Kids,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott Heron,
Siglo XX,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fugazi,
Althea and Donna,
The Grass Roots,
Talk Talk,
cv313,
The Electric Prunes,
Rufus Thomas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Amon Düül,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minnie Riperton,
Rosa Yemen,
Young Marble Giants,
Piero Umiliani,
Dennis Brown,
Henry Cow,
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.