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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Desert Stars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba 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 clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Sixth Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Eric Dolphy,
David Bowie,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
The Associates,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Pus,
Kaleidoscope,
Lyres,
Spoonie Gee,
Lindisfarne,
Scott Walker,
Scrapy,
Sight & Sound,
Popol Vuh,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donald Byrd,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Drexciya,
Qualms,
Deakin,
Yazoo,
Althea and Donna,
Todd Rundgren,
Desert Stars,
The Slackers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pole,
Davy DMX,
Accadde A,
The Black Dice,
Colin Newman,
the Sonics,
Deadbeat,
The Wake,
Excepter,
The Gladiators,
Kayak,
John Cale,
Alton Ellis,
48th St. Collective,
ABC,
The Angels of Light,
Organ,
Mantronix,
David Axelrod,
Rod Modell,
David McCallum,
Sonic Youth,
Blancmange,
World's Most,
Jeff Mills,
Joey Negro,
The Cowsills,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Golliwogs,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.