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 Ghana and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 Y Pants to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Leaves,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dead C,
The Fuzztones,
Guru Guru,
The Names,
Alison Limerick,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tubeway Army,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Matthew Halsall,
The Music Machine,
Siglo XX,
Bill Wells,
Stockholm Monsters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Icehouse,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Teasers,
The Blackbyrds,
The Birthday Party,
The Beau Brummels,
Mandrill,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lou Reed,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skarface,
Half Japanese,
Sandy B,
Erasure,
Black Moon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Sonics,
The Count Five,
Morten Harket,
Rekid,
Das Ding,
Model 500,
Excepter,
Sister Nancy,
Minor Threat,
The Slits,
The United States of America,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wire,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arcadia,
Soul Sonic Force,
Johnny Osbourne,
UT,
Mars,
The Happenings,
Rod Modell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bad Manners,
Barry Ungar,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.