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 Namibia and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marshall Jefferson to the funk 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a marimba 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 marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Skriet,
James White and The Blacks,
the Association,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Swans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
Newcleus,
Eden Ahbez,
World's Most,
Mr. Review,
Severed Heads,
Urselle,
Sound Behaviour,
The Modern Lovers,
Pierre Henry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cameo,
Marc Almond,
Camberwell Now,
Dawn Penn,
Aaron Thompson,
Magazine,
The Golliwogs,
Aural Exciters,
Dark Day,
B.T. Express,
Cluster,
Stereo Dub,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roger Hodgson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Livin' Joy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Busters,
Joe Smooth,
Goldenarms,
The Knickerbockers,
Model 500,
Steve Hackett,
Minnie Riperton,
Spandau Ballet,
Warren Ellis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fort Wilson Riot,
8 Eyed Spy,
Camouflage,
Nation of Ulysses,
Half Japanese,
Country Teasers,
Rakim,
Lightning Bolt,
Darondo,
Oblivians,
Monolake,
Metal Thangz,
Andrew Hill,
La Düsseldorf,
Davy DMX,
Lungfish,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.