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 Greece and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lyres to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
The Move,
The Busters,
The Black Dice,
Man Parrish,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Niagra,
Half Japanese,
Lalann,
The Cure,
Rufus Thomas,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Cale,
Joe Finger,
Dave Gahan,
Lungfish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ludus,
Von Mondo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Y Pants,
Yusef Lateef,
Cameo,
Essential Logic,
Mark Hollis,
Los Fastidios,
The Associates,
Oblivians,
The Victims,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
Symarip,
Pussy Galore,
Bill Wells,
R.M.O.,
Roxette,
Masters at Work,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tom Boy,
Eli Mardock,
Moby Grape,
Lebanon Hanover,
Aloha Tigers,
Pere Ubu,
PIL,
The Litter,
World's Most,
Black Pus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Fire Engines,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Can,
Sun City Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Amon Düül,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minny Pops,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Radio Birdman,
Marvin Gaye,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.