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 Azerbaijan and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Darondo to the dance 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Piero Umiliani,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Last Poets,
The United States of America,
Cybotron,
Eddi Front,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Standells,
Gang of Four,
The Slackers,
The Motions,
The Zeros,
Bad Manners,
Frankie Knuckles,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deadbeat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yellowson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Whodini,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonic Youth,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Black Pus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Moby Grape,
Delon & Dalcan,
Carl Craig,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Davy DMX,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Seeds,
Arab on Radar,
Au Pairs,
Robert Wyatt,
CMW,
Average White Band,
John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mars,
Patti Smith,
Fatback Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nas,
Graham Central Station,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deepchord,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Techniques,
Hoover,
Barbara Tucker,
Procol Harum,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Dolphy,
Dual Sessions,
Easy Going,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.