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 Norway and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro 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 Dead Boys to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a theremin 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 chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
D'Angelo,
Franke,
Sex Pistols,
Steve Hackett,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rosa Yemen,
Section 25,
Kaleidoscope,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fluxion,
The Monks,
The Skatalites,
K-Klass,
Nico,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quando Quango,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cecil Taylor,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jeff Lynne,
Boz Scaggs,
Cheater Slicks,
Blancmange,
OOIOO,
Gang Green,
Andrew Hill,
The Selecter,
Aural Exciters,
Ornette Coleman,
Scott Walker,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Siglo XX,
Drexciya,
Blossom Toes,
Index,
Bill Wells,
Panda Bear,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Wasted Youth,
cv313,
The Leaves,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Stockholm Monsters,
Piero Umiliani,
Sugar Minott,
The Music Machine,
John Cale,
John Coltrane,
The Last Poets,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Sherman,
Mo-Dettes,
Matthew Bourne,
Ten City,
Barry Ungar,
Soft Machine,
Laurel Aitken,
The Moleskins,
Alison Limerick,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.