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 Tuvalu and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Skatalites to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mummies,
Dorothy Ashby,
X-Ray Spex,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Golliwogs,
Rosa Yemen,
The Barracudas,
Ponytail,
Youth Brigade,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pussy Galore,
Soulsonic Force,
Blancmange,
Toni Rubio,
the Bar-Kays,
John Lydon,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Foxx,
Oblivians,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hasil Adkins,
Saccharine Trust,
Cecil Taylor,
The Walker Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dawn Penn,
Scion,
Marine Girls,
The Stooges,
Lindisfarne,
Charles Mingus,
Swell Maps,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Trojans,
Nirvana,
kango's stein massive,
Yazoo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vainqueur,
The Raincoats,
B.T. Express,
Absolute Body Control,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camberwell Now,
Max Romeo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Q65,
Minor Threat,
Lakeside,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.