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 Cuba and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ornette Coleman to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron 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 rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Depeche Mode,
Sam Rivers,
Bob Dylan,
Rekid,
E-Dancer,
Big Daddy Kane,
Franke,
John Holt,
Neil Young,
The Slackers,
Alton Ellis,
Robert Wyatt,
Alice Coltrane,
Kurtis Blow,
Deakin,
the Normal,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Bananas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
Silicon Teens,
The Angels of Light,
Sight & Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nick Fraelich,
Bizarre Inc.,
Adolescents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Anthony Braxton,
Mandrill,
Pylon,
OOIOO,
Slave,
Cybotron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Minny Pops,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Heaven 17,
Spandau Ballet,
The Busters,
Yazoo,
The Kinks,
Loose Ends,
Jeff Lynne,
New York Dolls,
Slick Rick,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Saints,
KRS-One,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Skatalites,
Guru Guru,
Eden Ahbez,
Mars,
Radio Birdman,
H. Thieme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.