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 Botswana and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Kayak to the grunge 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb 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 harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minny Pops,
Scientists,
Althea and Donna,
Joe Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Parry Music,
The Evens,
Radio Birdman,
Panda Bear,
Wolf Eyes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grauzone,
Ronan,
Marvin Gaye,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
Byron Stingily,
Magazine,
The Young Rascals,
Masters at Work,
Boz Scaggs,
Public Enemy,
The Velvet Underground,
The Dirtbombs,
Little Man,
Absolute Body Control,
Dave Gahan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Blues Magoos,
Los Fastidios,
Goldenarms,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sex Pistols,
Bill Near,
World's Most,
Mars,
Organ,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Newcleus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Henry Cow,
Oneida,
Girls At Our Best!,
Animal Collective,
Freddie Wadling,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deakin,
The Raincoats,
John Cale,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Suicide,
Massinfluence,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.