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 the UAE and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Anthony Braxton to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer 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 organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Trumans Water,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Swans,
Matthew Bourne,
Brothers Johnson,
Sex Pistols,
Wire,
The Litter,
Gang Green,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tubeway Army,
Roy Ayers,
Soulsonic Force,
The J.B.'s,
Bad Manners,
Joy Division,
Ponytail,
Michelle Simonal,
ABC,
The Blues Magoos,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
Drexciya,
Half Japanese,
The Leaves,
Agent Orange,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maurizio,
Johnny Clarke,
Scan 7,
Roxette,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Donald Byrd,
China Crisis,
Blake Baxter,
June Days,
Connie Case,
Underground Resistance,
The Mummies,
UT,
Monks,
Adolescents,
Sun City Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Al Stewart,
The Invisible,
Jacques Brel,
Bootsy Collins,
Amon Düül,
Saccharine Trust,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Young Rascals,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dennis Brown,
Amon Düül II,
T. Rex,
cv313, cv313, cv313, cv313.
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.