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 Jamaica and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and an organ 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 rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cymande,
The Count Five,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Howard Jones,
Delta 5,
Bobby Sherman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sound Behaviour,
The Fugs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vainqueur,
Sight & Sound,
Clear Light,
Chris & Cosey,
Radiohead,
Jacques Brel,
The Gap Band,
Popol Vuh,
Robert Wyatt,
The American Breed,
Scion,
Lakeside,
Matthew Bourne,
The Blues Magoos,
Can,
Desert Stars,
The Vogues,
Suburban Knight,
Eve St. Jones,
Franke,
Harpers Bizarre,
Intrusion,
Soulsonic Force,
Oneida,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marine Girls,
Brothers Johnson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bronski Beat,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ultra Naté,
Newcleus,
Drexciya,
Sparks,
Magma,
Tomorrow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Stetsasonic,
Nick Fraelich,
The Litter,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
Flipper,
Minutemen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television Personalities,
Don Cherry,
Funky Four + One,
Icehouse,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.