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 Kazakhstan 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Urselle,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pulsallama,
H. Thieme,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Martian,
The Cramps,
Symarip,
Altered Images,
Royal Trux,
Al Stewart,
CMW,
Howard Jones,
Television Personalities,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lucky Dragons,
Little Man,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fall,
Pierre Henry,
Drive Like Jehu,
F. McDonald,
Sällskapet,
Sister Nancy,
Ice-T,
Matthew Halsall,
The Mummies,
Wolf Eyes,
Echospace,
New Order,
Bluetip,
Quadrant,
Wings,
Peter and Kerry,
Smog,
The Remains,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Lydon,
DNA,
The Offenders,
Main Source,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Misunderstood,
Todd Terry,
The Fuzztones,
Joe Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Crash Course in Science,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gang Gang Dance,
Radiohead,
The Velvet Underground,
Hot Snakes,
Barry Ungar,
David McCallum,
The Dave Clark Five,
Das Ding,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.