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 Jamaica 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sonics to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes 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 harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
The Flesh Eaters,
Talk Talk,
David Axelrod,
Blossom Toes,
Camouflage,
Model 500,
The Red Krayola,
Tom Boy,
Michelle Simonal,
Joe Smooth,
The Techniques,
David Bowie,
OOIOO,
The Fuzztones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sarah Menescal,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kaleidoscope,
PIL,
Sexual Harrassment,
China Crisis,
Black Pus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Morten Harket,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tres Demented,
Au Pairs,
10cc,
The New Christs,
Todd Terry,
Ken Boothe,
Technova,
Kurtis Blow,
Roxette,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rites of Spring,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alice Coltrane,
Andrew Hill,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blancmange,
Q and Not U,
Black Moon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Clear Light,
The Happenings,
Pharoah Sanders,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronnie Foster,
Minutemen,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sister Nancy,
Crooked Eye,
Flash Fearless,
Quadrant,
Franke,
Maurizio,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.