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 Equatorial Guinea and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 the Slits to the rock 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb 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 clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
The Litter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lucky Dragons,
Lightning Bolt,
Moss Icon,
The Fortunes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Danielle Patucci,
Ornette Coleman,
Tom Boy,
The Stooges,
Public Image Ltd.,
June Days,
The Offenders,
Desert Stars,
Warren Ellis,
Mars,
Rotary Connection,
Crash Course in Science,
The Divine Comedy,
The Electric Prunes,
Infiniti,
Buzzcocks,
Tim Buckley,
Reuben Wilson,
Easy Going,
Erykah Badu,
Lindisfarne,
Ice-T,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Porter Ricks,
Harry Pussy,
Joyce Sims,
Wings,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
Michelle Simonal,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Bourne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Section 25,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hardrive,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cramps,
Banda Bassotti,
Drexciya,
Schoolly D,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Parry Music,
Joe Finger,
Nico,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.