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 Togo and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Five Americans to the funk 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
One Last Wish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marmalade,
Brand Nubian,
The Fall,
F. McDonald,
Black Sheep,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Godley & Creme,
Albert Ayler,
Crooked Eye,
Khruangbin,
The Motions,
Pere Ubu,
Minutemen,
Skarface,
Theoretical Girls,
Scan 7,
The Fire Engines,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lee Hazlewood,
Outsiders,
Metal Thangz,
The Electric Prunes,
New Order,
E-Dancer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Davy DMX,
The Mummies,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ohio Players,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Boogie Down Productions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lower 48,
John Coltrane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Modern Lovers,
Fatback Band,
Tubeway Army,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gang Green,
Eric Dolphy,
Robert Hood,
Boredoms,
The Divine Comedy,
Con Funk Shun,
Yazoo,
the Bar-Kays,
Underground Resistance,
Dual Sessions,
Oblivians,
Stetsasonic,
The Martian,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Litter,
The Moleskins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Swans,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.