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 Germany and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Neon Judgement to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator 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 harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Danielle Patucci,
Ludus,
Section 25,
the Germs,
Severed Heads,
ABBA,
U.S. Maple,
X-Ray Spex,
The Wake,
Mantronix,
Jerry's Kids,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Dead C,
Q and Not U,
Tears for Fears,
Kevin Saunderson,
OOIOO,
Lucky Dragons,
Saccharine Trust,
The New Christs,
Charles Mingus,
Godley & Creme,
X-101,
Clear Light,
Nas,
Easy Going,
Johnny Clarke,
Ohio Players,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boredoms,
The Leaves,
Byron Stingily,
E-Dancer,
Monolake,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eurythmics,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The United States of America,
the Normal,
Ken Boothe,
The Kinks,
Barclay James Harvest,
48th St. Collective,
Jacob Miller,
The Fuzztones,
John Coltrane,
Tim Buckley,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pole,
Rhythm & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marc Almond,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Finger,
Andrew Hill,
Terrestrial Tones,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.