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 Guyana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Soul Sonic Force to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Bill Wells,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Severed Heads,
Cal Tjader,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eddi Front,
Quando Quango,
T.S.O.L.,
Lee Hazlewood,
These Immortal Souls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scan 7,
Peter & Gordon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drexciya,
Janne Schatter,
Yusef Lateef,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Swans,
The Pretty Things,
Main Source,
Sun City Girls,
Mandrill,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
Jacques Brel,
The Birthday Party,
Byron Stingily,
Joensuu 1685,
The Misunderstood,
Funkadelic,
Reuben Wilson,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Womack,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Sound,
Arab on Radar,
Quadrant,
Sällskapet,
The Fugs,
Depeche Mode,
June of 44,
10cc,
E-Dancer,
Jerry's Kids,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Move,
Guru Guru,
Mr. Review,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ten City,
Electric Prunes,
Qualms,
Albert Ayler,
Porter Ricks,
Camberwell Now,
Basic Channel,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.