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 Kuwait and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 Frankie Knuckles to the grime 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Altered Images,
Roy Ayers,
Colin Newman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
Monks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Archie Shepp,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Holt,
Todd Terry,
Minutemen,
Tom Boy,
The Vogues,
Fatback Band,
Barry Ungar,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gastr Del Sol,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
Mission of Burma,
Anakelly,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Human League,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Mills,
Smog,
Scion,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kayak,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fear,
Black Sheep,
Model 500,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Royal Trux,
Terry Callier,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
Magazine,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
The Knickerbockers,
Basic Channel,
Fela Kuti,
Surgeon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Golliwogs,
Bush Tetras,
Black Flag,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kas Product,
The Smiths,
Bobby Sherman,
Lower 48,
Malaria!,
Quando Quango,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.