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 Andorra and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tomorrow to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin 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 organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Donald Byrd,
Scion,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultra Naté,
Minutemen,
kango's stein massive,
Warsaw,
Minny Pops,
Spoonie Gee,
Lightning Bolt,
China Crisis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Arthur Verocai,
Ten City,
Joensuu 1685,
Television,
Boz Scaggs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Accadde A,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sam Rivers,
Ken Boothe,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy Collins,
The Misunderstood,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Porter Ricks,
The Names,
the Fania All-Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ossler,
The Mojo Men,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pulsallama,
The Divine Comedy,
Lakeside,
Wally Richardson,
Eric B and Rakim,
PIL,
The Slits,
the Sonics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swell Maps,
Duran Duran,
Rites of Spring,
Freddie Wadling,
Robert Wyatt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Fortunes,
Tom Boy,
Skarface,
Franke,
Blancmange,
Andrew Hill,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.