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 Mali and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ 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 Tears for Fears to the grime 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar 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 guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Amon Düül,
Simply Red,
The Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Saints,
Dave Gahan,
Shuggie Otis,
Neu!,
The Raincoats,
Buzzcocks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Masters at Work,
T. Rex,
The Gories,
Carl Craig,
Jerry's Kids,
MC5,
Andrew Hill,
Laurel Aitken,
Magazine,
Archie Shepp,
June Days,
Donald Byrd,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Joe Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Wyatt,
Mr. Review,
Rufus Thomas,
Minor Threat,
Flash Fearless,
Gang Gang Dance,
Johnny Clarke,
Scrapy,
Severed Heads,
Scratch Acid,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
a-ha,
Arcadia,
Stiv Bators,
The Doors,
Ken Boothe,
Stetsasonic,
Q and Not U,
Don Cherry,
The Star Department,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crooked Eye,
PIL,
Technova,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Patti Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.