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 Afghanistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Kaleidoscope to the rock 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 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 marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Joey Negro,
Bob Dylan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sparks,
Gabor Szabo,
Alphaville,
Crooked Eye,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Q and Not U,
10cc,
Tres Demented,
Matthew Bourne,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Whodini,
The Busters,
Yazoo,
The Trojans,
The Neon Judgement,
Magma,
Funky Four + One,
In Retrospect,
Marmalade,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Invisible,
Porter Ricks,
Brick,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Electric Prunes,
Tim Buckley,
F. McDonald,
Boogie Down Productions,
Youth Brigade,
Rekid,
Quantec,
Heaven 17,
K-Klass,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Scott Walker,
The Skatalites,
The Velvet Underground,
Scratch Acid,
Judy Mowatt,
Stiv Bators,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Birthday Party,
The Modern Lovers,
CMW,
Blake Baxter,
Ludus,
Dual Sessions,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Albert Ayler,
Pharoah Sanders,
World's Most,
Country Teasers,
Moebius,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.