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 Solomon Islands and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 D'Angelo to the electroclash 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
The Monks,
China Crisis,
The Toasters,
R.M.O.,
The Modern Lovers,
Jacob Miller,
The Real Kids,
Ronan,
Banda Bassotti,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lalann,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The New Christs,
Can,
Index,
Ultra Naté,
The Standells,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gap Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
June of 44,
The Human League,
MDC,
John Lydon,
Delta 5,
Carl Craig,
Wally Richardson,
U.S. Maple,
Youth Brigade,
Half Japanese,
Massinfluence,
Andrew Hill,
Johnny Clarke,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Detroit Cobras,
Robert Hood,
Connie Case,
Skriet,
Terry Callier,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aloha Tigers,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Slits,
Eurythmics,
In Retrospect,
Saccharine Trust,
Brick,
Fad Gadget,
Kenny Larkin,
The Stooges,
Newcleus,
Alison Limerick,
Joey Negro,
Gang of Four,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.