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 Uruguay and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Chris Corsano to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Anthony Braxton,
Sound Behaviour,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Smog,
Moss Icon,
The Blackbyrds,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Blues Magoos,
The Residents,
Absolute Body Control,
the Association,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kas Product,
Bob Dylan,
The Cowsills,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rekid,
E-Dancer,
The Monks,
the Human League,
June of 44,
DJ Style,
Alton Ellis,
Howard Jones,
The Motions,
Tubeway Army,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sparks,
New York Dolls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fluxion,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mandrill,
The Monochrome Set,
Guru Guru,
48th St. Collective,
Kenny Larkin,
The Human League,
The Smoke,
Suburban Knight,
The Gories,
ABC,
Monolake,
Wire,
The Selecter,
Bauhaus,
Panda Bear,
The Searchers,
John Lydon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Sherman,
Basic Channel,
Ronan,
Boredoms,
Sex Pistols,
Spandau Ballet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.