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 Comoros and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Severed Heads to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Ten City,
Darondo,
Masters at Work,
Bluetip,
Clear Light,
One Last Wish,
Khruangbin,
Crash Course in Science,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Derrick Morgan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
JFA,
The Mummies,
Barrington Levy,
Charles Mingus,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Hood,
Nirvana,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry's Kids,
Marc Almond,
June Days,
Angry Samoans,
The Victims,
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Associates,
Albert Ayler,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Slits,
Kas Product,
The Dirtbombs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Icehouse,
Smog,
The Fire Engines,
The Trojans,
Unwound,
The Angels of Light,
The Searchers,
Section 25,
Underground Resistance,
The Shadows of Knight,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Blossom Toes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Moon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Slits,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang of Four,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.