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 Paraguay and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Desert Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar 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 clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Althea and Donna,
Pagans,
Tom Boy,
June of 44,
Niagra,
Arcadia,
Crispy Ambulance,
R.M.O.,
Con Funk Shun,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brass Construction,
Lightning Bolt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
DJ Sneak,
Byron Stingily,
The Tremeloes,
Neil Young,
The Move,
Malaria!,
Iggy Pop,
Glenn Branca,
The Gun Club,
Todd Rundgren,
Fatback Band,
Gong,
Dark Day,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Charles Mingus,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eden Ahbez,
Yaz,
Flipper,
a-ha,
The Stooges,
8 Eyed Spy,
D'Angelo,
The Divine Comedy,
Pussy Galore,
Boogie Down Productions,
Patti Smith,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
the Soft Cell,
Robert Hood,
Fad Gadget,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul II Soul,
Alison Limerick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Loose Ends,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Soft Cell,
Al Stewart,
Das Ding,
Bill Wells,
The Star Department,
China Crisis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Hashim,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.