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 Togo and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Raincoats to the disco 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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator 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 harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Barry Ungar,
The Smoke,
Johnny Osbourne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Five Americans,
The Fall,
Lebanon Hanover,
T. Rex,
Carl Craig,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Drexciya,
Rod Modell,
Clear Light,
Soul Sonic Force,
Idris Muhammad,
KRS-One,
Young Marble Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gladiators,
Robert Wyatt,
Brothers Johnson,
June of 44,
The Residents,
Marine Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monochrome Set,
X-Ray Spex,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cal Tjader,
Niagra,
Nik Kershaw,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soul II Soul,
Q65,
The Cramps,
Ponytail,
The Index,
The Searchers,
Mo-Dettes,
The Monks,
New Age Steppers,
Jacques Brel,
Pylon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Buzzcocks,
The Invisible,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jeff Mills,
The Divine Comedy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gichy Dan,
Roxette,
The Walker Brothers,
a-ha,
Barbara Tucker,
Sixth Finger,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.