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 Morocco and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Dawn Penn to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Johnny Clarke,
Urselle,
Sparks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Near,
The Mojo Men,
H. Thieme,
Audionom,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mad Mike,
the Normal,
The Blues Magoos,
Bauhaus,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Easy Going,
Iggy Pop,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pere Ubu,
Outsiders,
The Techniques,
Scrapy,
Icehouse,
DJ Sneak,
The Dirtbombs,
KRS-One,
Be Bop Deluxe,
New York Dolls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Man Eating Sloth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Gladiators,
Brothers Johnson,
Stetsasonic,
The Divine Comedy,
Main Source,
Soulsonic Force,
Erasure,
Franke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doors,
Desert Stars,
Minor Threat,
Bad Manners,
Boogie Down Productions,
AZ,
These Immortal Souls,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Zeros,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kaleidoscope,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Mills,
The Five Americans,
Toni Rubio,
A Certain Ratio,
Underground Resistance,
Dennis Brown,
The Modern Lovers,
Bootsy Collins,
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.