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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Swans to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes 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 mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Public Enemy,
F. McDonald,
Dennis Brown,
Niagra,
Mars,
Groovy Waters,
Rod Modell,
Rotary Connection,
Ronan,
Moss Icon,
Los Fastidios,
Andrew Hill,
Deadbeat,
Kurtis Blow,
Roy Ayers,
Harry Pussy,
The Fugs,
Scrapy,
Magazine,
The Slits,
The Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Neil Young,
Donny Hathaway,
Blossom Toes,
Tom Boy,
The Doors,
Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
John Coltrane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jeff Lynne,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Spandau Ballet,
The Toasters,
The Divine Comedy,
Joe Smooth,
Q and Not U,
The Blues Magoos,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Buzzcocks,
Arcadia,
Newcleus,
Chris & Cosey,
Danielle Patucci,
Amon Düül II,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Sherman,
Magma,
Bauhaus,
Angry Samoans,
The Barracudas,
the Normal,
Mantronix,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.