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 Bulgaria and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Altered Images to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unrelated Segments record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
The Standells,
Lindisfarne,
Groovy Waters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The New Christs,
Heaven 17,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Carl Craig,
Liliput,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Urselle,
Surgeon,
Junior Murvin,
Newcleus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Whodini,
Jacques Brel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rakim,
Barbara Tucker,
The Pretty Things,
Moss Icon,
LL Cool J,
the Slits,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Accadde A,
John Foxx,
Visage,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Dead C,
David McCallum,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Gap Band,
Don Cherry,
The Litter,
Derrick May,
Arcadia,
Ralphi Rosario,
In Retrospect,
Motorama,
Underground Resistance,
Monks,
The Modern Lovers,
John Coltrane,
Symarip,
Icehouse,
Black Sheep,
Stockholm Monsters,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Slick Rick,
Ronan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alphaville,
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.