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 Jamaica and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Suburban Knight to the punk 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet 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 snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Livin' Joy,
Matthew Bourne,
E-Dancer,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Loose Ends,
Graham Central Station,
X-Ray Spex,
Babytalk,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Susan Cadogan,
Das Ding,
Audionom,
Joensuu 1685,
Erykah Badu,
Depeche Mode,
The Toasters,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
Basic Channel,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Smoke,
Barbara Tucker,
The Happenings,
Index,
JFA,
Rufus Thomas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sex Pistols,
Blake Baxter,
New Order,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Organ,
Warren Ellis,
Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Anakelly,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Lydon,
Roxy Music,
The Saints,
Theoretical Girls,
Kayak,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lyres,
This Heat,
Jeff Mills,
kango's stein massive,
Rapeman,
the Bar-Kays,
Sister Nancy,
Shuggie Otis,
Iggy Pop,
The Selecter,
The Associates,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Janne Schatter,
the Slits,
Marc Almond,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.