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 Venezuela and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gong,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Circle Jerks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stiv Bators,
The Fugs,
Public Enemy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moss Icon,
Tears for Fears,
U.S. Maple,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Offenders,
The Remains,
CMW,
The Blues Magoos,
James White and The Blacks,
Youth Brigade,
June of 44,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobby Sherman,
Terry Callier,
Quadrant,
Rites of Spring,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soul II Soul,
Maurizio,
Jeff Lynne,
Supertramp,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
Trumans Water,
This Heat,
Deepchord,
JFA,
Shuggie Otis,
Franke,
Connie Case,
Livin' Joy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cal Tjader,
Ice-T,
48th St. Collective,
Yaz,
The Index,
UT,
Ornette Coleman,
Rekid,
Henry Cow,
Don Cherry,
Delta 5,
Swans,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.