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 Liberia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Arthur Verocai to the punk 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin 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 synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Supertramp,
Susan Cadogan,
World's Most,
Deadbeat,
Banda Bassotti,
Tommy Roe,
Roxette,
The Gladiators,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Happenings,
The Walker Brothers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tears for Fears,
Crispy Ambulance,
Negative Approach,
Organ,
Black Pus,
Pylon,
Neil Young,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fortunes,
Ludus,
Marine Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Radiohead,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pharoah Sanders,
Absolute Body Control,
Max Romeo,
F. McDonald,
Bang On A Can,
Thee Headcoats,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
Al Stewart,
Todd Terry,
Saccharine Trust,
Con Funk Shun,
Sarah Menescal,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sam Rivers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Human League,
Donny Hathaway,
Yazoo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mad Mike,
Depeche Mode,
Fela Kuti,
K-Klass,
The Birthday Party,
the Association,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
DJ Sneak,
The Wake,
The Dead C,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.