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 San Marino and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the grunge 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terrestrial Tones,
New York Dolls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Drexciya,
cv313,
The Walker Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
Quantec,
James White and The Blacks,
Guru Guru,
Roy Ayers,
Soul II Soul,
The Slackers,
The Moody Blues,
The Wake,
The Standells,
Amon Düül,
Dark Day,
Interpol,
The Seeds,
Visage,
Marc Almond,
Essential Logic,
8 Eyed Spy,
DJ Sneak,
Davy DMX,
Warren Ellis,
Supertramp,
Chrome,
KRS-One,
Skaos,
Icehouse,
Infiniti,
Altered Images,
Youth Brigade,
Gang of Four,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Christie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Carl Craig,
ABBA,
Flipper,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pulsallama,
Sight & Sound,
This Heat,
Public Enemy,
Eric Dolphy,
The Divine Comedy,
The Mummies,
Suicide,
Desert Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.