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 Zimbabwe and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Dead C to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cramps,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare,
Dave Gahan,
Fugazi,
Mission of Burma,
Crispian St. Peters,
Whodini,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Sherman,
Wasted Youth,
Stetsasonic,
The Index,
Sixth Finger,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mr. Review,
Warren Ellis,
The Kinks,
The J.B.'s,
Y Pants,
Rekid,
Model 500,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Rundgren,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fad Gadget,
Pantaleimon,
Adolescents,
Janne Schatter,
Minny Pops,
Barry Ungar,
Half Japanese,
The Flesh Eaters,
Franke,
Niagra,
Swell Maps,
Inner City,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blues Magoos,
Soul II Soul,
the Bar-Kays,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Average White Band,
Public Enemy,
Al Stewart,
Maurizio,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
Johnny Clarke,
The Victims,
John Cale,
The Standells,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.