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 Niger and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Remains to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Freddie Wadling,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ultra Naté,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Talk Talk,
Rhythm & Sound,
Clear Light,
Animal Collective,
Henry Cow,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moby Grape,
the Slits,
Ronnie Foster,
John Lydon,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Sherman,
Index,
Radiohead,
Chris Corsano,
Groovy Waters,
Joe Finger,
The Leaves,
The Divine Comedy,
Skriet,
The Fall,
The Mojo Men,
Wolf Eyes,
Jacques Brel,
The Star Department,
Banda Bassotti,
The Gories,
Mandrill,
Pierre Henry,
Trumans Water,
The Doors,
The Last Poets,
Yusef Lateef,
The Toasters,
Byron Stingily,
The Saints,
Brand Nubian,
Funky Four + One,
The Cure,
Magazine,
10cc,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Grass Roots,
Bizarre Inc.,
Qualms,
Make Up,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mo-Dettes,
H. Thieme,
Scion,
DJ Sneak,
Throbbing Gristle,
James White and The Blacks,
Howard Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.