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 Botswana and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Das Ding to the techno 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet 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 linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q65,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scientists,
R.M.O.,
Country Teasers,
Eddi Front,
Oneida,
Technova,
Mars,
The Litter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joyce Sims,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
The Pop Group,
Nick Fraelich,
Boz Scaggs,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Hot Snakes,
Scan 7,
Amon Düül,
Andrew Hill,
Camberwell Now,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Au Pairs,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
Bluetip,
Zero Boys,
Hardrive,
The Kinks,
Magma,
Aloha Tigers,
Sixth Finger,
Audionom,
Tom Boy,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joy Division,
The Star Department,
Pierre Henry,
John Foxx,
Deepchord,
Ronan,
Black Sheep,
Arthur Verocai,
Janne Schatter,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bauhaus,
Gabor Szabo,
Index,
Minnie Riperton,
Gerry Rafferty,
Judy Mowatt,
The Leaves,
Archie Shepp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.