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 Solomon Islands and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crash Course in Science to the disco 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe 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 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
PIL,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Green,
Erasure,
Babytalk,
Sister Nancy,
Joey Negro,
Cybotron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
June of 44,
E-Dancer,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
LL Cool J,
Soulsonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
The Remains,
Moby Grape,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Susan Cadogan,
The Saints,
Radiohead,
Bush Tetras,
The Fall,
the Bar-Kays,
The Red Krayola,
Sun Ra,
The Move,
Whodini,
ABC,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Five Americans,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cameo,
The Victims,
Massinfluence,
Barbara Tucker,
Echospace,
The Moody Blues,
X-Ray Spex,
The Dirtbombs,
David McCallum,
Hasil Adkins,
Mandrill,
Matthew Halsall,
Isaac Hayes,
The Durutti Column,
Flipper,
The Leaves,
Deadbeat,
Tubeway Army,
The Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Neu!,
Flash Fearless,
Liliput,
Wolf Eyes,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.