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 Tonga and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Adolescents to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron 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 theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
The Star Department,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Trojans,
Hot Snakes,
New Age Steppers,
X-101,
T.S.O.L.,
FM Einheit,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nik Kershaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joe Finger,
Rapeman,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Y Pants,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Duran Duran,
Harry Pussy,
Main Source,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roxy Music,
The Cramps,
Rosa Yemen,
Flipper,
Guru Guru,
Lakeside,
Audionom,
Maleditus Sound,
Symarip,
Siglo XX,
Depeche Mode,
The Red Krayola,
Kerri Chandler,
Nas,
The Fall,
Q and Not U,
The Raincoats,
Minny Pops,
Bob Dylan,
Young Marble Giants,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sound,
Roy Ayers,
Supertramp,
Television Personalities,
Royal Trux,
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
Little Man,
Spandau Ballet,
Deadbeat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yellowson,
Scott Walker,
Monolake,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fugazi,
AZ,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.