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 Kazakhstan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Wolf Eyes to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Sun City Girls,
Quando Quango,
The New Christs,
The Seeds,
Erykah Badu,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris & Cosey,
Juan Atkins,
Darondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Patti Smith,
Peter and Kerry,
The Names,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Terry Callier,
the Soft Cell,
John Lydon,
Sam Rivers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Barracudas,
Second Layer,
Blancmange,
Chris Corsano,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Bowie,
Barrington Levy,
Scion,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Black Dice,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Section 25,
MC5,
Babytalk,
Altered Images,
Sound Behaviour,
Bluetip,
Tubeway Army,
Scrapy,
The Monks,
Man Parrish,
Eric Copeland,
Boredoms,
Yaz,
The Fall,
Loose Ends,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
B.T. Express,
Faust,
Aloha Tigers,
F. McDonald,
Rufus Thomas,
Blake Baxter,
The Young Rascals,
Ten City,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dead C,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.