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 St Lucia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Angry Samoans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Popol Vuh,
OOIOO,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sonny Sharrock,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
Organ,
Cal Tjader,
Charles Mingus,
LL Cool J,
CMW,
Warsaw,
Moebius,
Hot Snakes,
Kayak,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy,
Al Stewart,
Soul Sonic Force,
Johnny Osbourne,
Derrick Morgan,
Deepchord,
Camberwell Now,
X-101,
The Gun Club,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brick,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
Intrusion,
a-ha,
Josef K,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Johnny Clarke,
Max Romeo,
The Tremeloes,
The Remains,
The Fortunes,
Guru Guru,
The Victims,
Das Ding,
Mantronix,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fire Engines,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Buckinghams,
Shoche,
Brothers Johnson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Iggy Pop,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.