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 Morocco and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Make Up to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum 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 synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yaz,
Derrick May,
In Retrospect,
Wally Richardson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lyres,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cybotron,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aural Exciters,
Nico,
Ohio Players,
Alton Ellis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bluetip,
Magma,
Susan Cadogan,
Brothers Johnson,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scan 7,
Gastr Del Sol,
Surgeon,
Shuggie Otis,
The Evens,
Scratch Acid,
The Red Krayola,
Rufus Thomas,
DNA,
DJ Style,
Nik Kershaw,
Siglo XX,
Lower 48,
Theoretical Girls,
Babytalk,
T.S.O.L.,
Procol Harum,
Deadbeat,
Newcleus,
Dead Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Public Enemy,
Colin Newman,
Mark Hollis,
Robert Görl,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scott Walker,
The Pretty Things,
The Grass Roots,
Cheater Slicks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gladiators,
Amazonics,
David McCallum,
Oneida,
Camberwell Now,
Moby Grape,
CMW,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.