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 Maldives and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Thompson Twins to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin 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 marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Grey Daturas,
John Holt,
a-ha,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Monks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hoover,
AZ,
Kevin Saunderson,
Siglo XX,
Traffic Nightmare,
Icehouse,
Fela Kuti,
The Martian,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Eddi Front,
The Index,
Chris Corsano,
X-Ray Spex,
Absolute Body Control,
The Young Rascals,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Residents,
Swans,
Chrome,
Von Mondo,
Banda Bassotti,
Quadrant,
Gang Gang Dance,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Litter,
The Count Five,
Soul II Soul,
The Smiths,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pantytec,
The Music Machine,
Deadbeat,
10cc,
The Tremeloes,
Brand Nubian,
Sandy B,
Sarah Menescal,
Tropical Tobacco,
F. McDonald,
Ronan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Associates,
The Selecter,
Iggy Pop,
Eric Copeland,
The Dirtbombs,
Barry Ungar,
Altered Images,
Angry Samoans,
Joy Division,
Drexciya,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.