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 Bologna.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar 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 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brass Construction,
Nils Olav,
Electric Prunes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Interpol,
Royal Trux,
Saccharine Trust,
Television,
Howard Jones,
Wasted Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
The Pop Group,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Techniques,
The Beau Brummels,
Roxy Music,
June of 44,
Deakin,
Archie Shepp,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Searchers,
Banda Bassotti,
EPMD,
cv313,
Arthur Verocai,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oblivians,
Lightning Bolt,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fat Boys,
The Moleskins,
Byron Stingily,
Zero Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
Carl Craig,
Mantronix,
Harmonia,
Swans,
Sparks,
Panda Bear,
Nico,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
The Seeds,
Derrick May,
Fatback Band,
Gang of Four,
Tommy Roe,
The Real Kids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Byrd,
PIL,
Radiohead,
Cal Tjader,
Alton Ellis,
Shoche,
Wolf Eyes,
Lakeside,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.