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 Vanuatu and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Donald Byrd to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Darondo,
K-Klass,
Malaria!,
Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Boz Scaggs,
Outsiders,
Japan,
The Smiths,
Absolute Body Control,
The Move,
The Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Josef K,
The Misunderstood,
Sam Rivers,
the Human League,
Rekid,
Gichy Dan,
The Tremeloes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Faraquet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Blake Baxter,
New York Dolls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ludus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Letta Mbulu,
Can,
Lou Christie,
Loose Ends,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donald Byrd,
Anthony Braxton,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joyce Sims,
Alton Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Animal Collective,
Shoche,
Motorama,
Henry Cow,
The Grass Roots,
Lakeside,
Jeru the Damaja,
Matthew Halsall,
Roy Ayers,
Angry Samoans,
MC5,
E-Dancer,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cluster,
Joy Division,
Kenny Larkin,
Urselle,
The Wake,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.