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 Libya and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 linndrum 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 Avey Tare to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and a sitar 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 güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
The Busters,
Quantec,
Index,
Pagans,
Altered Images,
Don Cherry,
Peter and Kerry,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Byrd,
June Days,
Tommy Roe,
The Smiths,
ABBA,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Saccharine Trust,
Youth Brigade,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
X-101,
The American Breed,
Jacob Miller,
Jeff Lynne,
A Certain Ratio,
Boogie Down Productions,
DJ Sneak,
Vainqueur,
Desert Stars,
Porter Ricks,
The Gap Band,
Siglo XX,
Marcia Griffiths,
MDC,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Royal Trux,
Skriet,
The Fugs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
B.T. Express,
the Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scan 7,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lucky Dragons,
Quadrant,
Unrelated Segments,
The Golliwogs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Can,
Eli Mardock,
The Move,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Seeds,
Alison Limerick,
the Germs,
K-Klass,
Simply Red,
Slick Rick,
Kool Moe Dee,
Au Pairs,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.