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 South Africa and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wake to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin 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 arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxette,
Shuggie Otis,
Derrick Morgan,
Tears for Fears,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lindisfarne,
Smog,
Can,
Minny Pops,
Barclay James Harvest,
DNA,
the Human League,
Skaos,
The Music Machine,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
The Velvet Underground,
K-Klass,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flipper,
Wasted Youth,
Ludus,
The Fortunes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visage,
Sun City Girls,
Black Sheep,
Anakelly,
Faust,
JFA,
The Saints,
Pussy Galore,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sight & Sound,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Donald Byrd,
Franke,
Toni Rubio,
Clear Light,
T. Rex,
Suicide,
Livin' Joy,
Masters at Work,
Soft Cell,
Scrapy,
Gang Starr,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
Magazine,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.