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 Jordan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Fuzztones to the disco 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Ken Boothe,
David McCallum,
Ralphi Rosario,
Warsaw,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Swell Maps,
the Human League,
Fat Boys,
Faust,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The United States of America,
Roxy Music,
Laurel Aitken,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gories,
Gang Green,
Quadrant,
Soul II Soul,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Normal,
These Immortal Souls,
X-102,
Man Eating Sloth,
David Axelrod,
Robert Wyatt,
Rosa Yemen,
Con Funk Shun,
MC5,
Niagra,
The Neon Judgement,
The Doors,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eve St. Jones,
The Modern Lovers,
Tears for Fears,
LL Cool J,
X-101,
Don Cherry,
Shoche,
Sparks,
Dual Sessions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Susan Cadogan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Selecter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Martian,
Young Marble Giants,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Association,
Gang Starr,
Nico,
Interpol,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Malaria!,
Moebius,
Second Layer,
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.