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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 48th St. Collective 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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Harry Pussy,
48th St. Collective,
Tropical Tobacco,
LL Cool J,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Black Moon,
The Birthday Party,
Deakin,
Oneida,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Association,
Neil Young,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Visage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeff Mills,
Brand Nubian,
The Gun Club,
the Swans,
The Fortunes,
The Five Americans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kurtis Blow,
Wings,
T. Rex,
Sarah Menescal,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Moleskins,
Susan Cadogan,
Interpol,
Technova,
The Martian,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marmalade,
Arab on Radar,
David Axelrod,
Hot Snakes,
Camberwell Now,
Khruangbin,
Rekid,
Ultra Naté,
Lightning Bolt,
Graham Central Station,
The Sound,
Youth Brigade,
Warsaw,
Dorothy Ashby,
Public Enemy,
Darondo,
Pantaleimon,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.