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 Burundi and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro 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 Tres Demented to the crunk 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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe 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 guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Tim Buckley,
Gong,
Ronan,
Pole,
Rufus Thomas,
Can,
DNA,
Organ,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David McCallum,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fall,
Shoche,
Kerri Chandler,
Donny Hathaway,
Roger Hodgson,
Aaron Thompson,
Barbara Tucker,
The Evens,
Lakeside,
Y Pants,
Pantytec,
The Litter,
June Days,
Siglo XX,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Frankie Knuckles,
L. Decosne,
Roy Ayers,
Skriet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Animal Collective,
Dennis Brown,
Buzzcocks,
48th St. Collective,
Barclay James Harvest,
Faust,
Fad Gadget,
Man Eating Sloth,
Supertramp,
Mantronix,
Dark Day,
Glenn Branca,
Young Marble Giants,
The Fortunes,
Panda Bear,
Au Pairs,
The Barracudas,
Anthony Braxton,
Byron Stingily,
Junior Murvin,
Main Source,
Eric Dolphy,
Don Cherry,
Sound Behaviour,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.