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 Serbia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the oboe 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 The United States of America to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camouflage,
Sparks,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker,
Derrick Morgan,
cv313,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sex Pistols,
The Mojo Men,
The Trojans,
The Litter,
The Fire Engines,
Motorama,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Echospace,
The Black Dice,
The Invisible,
Lightning Bolt,
Deadbeat,
Audionom,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Blancmange,
ABC,
Aswad,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
Mantronix,
Morten Harket,
Rites of Spring,
Crooked Eye,
Scratch Acid,
MDC,
Bluetip,
Idris Muhammad,
Byron Stingily,
Siglo XX,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick May,
Graham Central Station,
Gabor Szabo,
the Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
The Kinks,
Panda Bear,
Franke,
Fela Kuti,
Janne Schatter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Davy DMX,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rotary Connection,
Charles Mingus,
Brass Construction,
Wally Richardson,
Procol Harum,
Gang Starr,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.