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 Vanuatu and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the crunk 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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin 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 marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
The Dirtbombs,
Barrington Levy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aswad,
Rekid,
Fad Gadget,
Throbbing Gristle,
Leonard Cohen,
Skarface,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Main Source,
Khruangbin,
Charles Mingus,
Visage,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Traffic Nightmare,
Clear Light,
Gong,
X-101,
New York Dolls,
Marvin Gaye,
the Human League,
The Pretty Things,
Robert Wyatt,
F. McDonald,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Womack,
Eurythmics,
DJ Style,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Angels of Light,
Siglo XX,
X-Ray Spex,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MDC,
D'Angelo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Qualms,
DJ Sneak,
David Bowie,
Blossom Toes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Section 25,
Harmonia,
The Evens,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marc Almond,
Black Bananas,
Flipper,
Tubeway Army,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Television Personalities,
the Soft Cell,
The Stooges,
The Move,
Fat Boys,
Cecil Taylor,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.