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 Micronesia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Pere Ubu to the techno 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer 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?
Jawbox,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Talk Talk,
Carl Craig,
Scientists,
Model 500,
Ken Boothe,
Mars,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ultra Naté,
Steve Hackett,
Aswad,
Mark Hollis,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Juan Atkins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
B.T. Express,
Clear Light,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Smog,
Tommy Roe,
Minor Threat,
The Mummies,
Desert Stars,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott Heron,
Patti Smith,
Das Ding,
Lee Hazlewood,
T. Rex,
Kurtis Blow,
Nils Olav,
Maleditus Sound,
Jacob Miller,
Judy Mowatt,
Alison Limerick,
the Bar-Kays,
Franke,
Young Marble Giants,
Section 25,
The Skatalites,
Sandy B,
James White and The Blacks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Television,
The American Breed,
The Leaves,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Public Enemy,
The Sonics,
Mandrill,
X-102,
John Cale,
Moss Icon,
Minutemen,
Bobby Sherman,
The Moody Blues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The J.B.'s,
Half Japanese,
Moby Grape,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.