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 Venezuela and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
The Smoke,
The Kinks,
Matthew Halsall,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Malaria!,
The Buckinghams,
Mr. Review,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
Tomorrow,
Harmonia,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pierre Henry,
Grey Daturas,
Sight & Sound,
the Slits,
Yellowson,
Stetsasonic,
John Cale,
Black Moon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
Kool Moe Dee,
Duran Duran,
Monolake,
Lower 48,
One Last Wish,
The Selecter,
Tubeway Army,
The Neon Judgement,
Crash Course in Science,
Isaac Hayes,
The Index,
The Skatalites,
OOIOO,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Wyatt,
Brass Construction,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lightning Bolt,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Johnny Clarke,
Dave Gahan,
Sällskapet,
Gabor Szabo,
Schoolly D,
Dark Day,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Youth Brigade,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.