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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kinks to the electroclash 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and an oboe 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 linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
James White and The Blacks,
Tears for Fears,
Blake Baxter,
Suicide,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
R.M.O.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Iggy Pop,
The Fall,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June Days,
the Slits,
Crooked Eye,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
T. Rex,
Al Stewart,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boz Scaggs,
Wally Richardson,
Yazoo,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Five Americans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ludus,
Todd Terry,
The Count Five,
The Invisible,
Rhythm & Sound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Oblivians,
Sex Pistols,
Marine Girls,
Roxette,
Don Cherry,
Frankie Knuckles,
FM Einheit,
Black Sheep,
Wire,
The Knickerbockers,
Radiohead,
The Martian,
Ten City,
The Beau Brummels,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane,
Maleditus Sound,
This Heat,
Gichy Dan,
Aaron Thompson,
Piero Umiliani,
Stereo Dub,
Surgeon,
The Velvet Underground,
The Offenders,
Technova,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Brothers Johnson,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Gun Club,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.