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 Senegal and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Fall to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Axelrod,
Cheater Slicks,
Essential Logic,
The Standells,
Ten City,
The Sonics,
Moby Grape,
The Barracudas,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lindisfarne,
The Seeds,
Matthew Halsall,
Brand Nubian,
Janne Schatter,
F. McDonald,
Brick,
Ludus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Agent Orange,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masters at Work,
Scion,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Grey Daturas,
The Star Department,
The Real Kids,
Gastr Del Sol,
Second Layer,
Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Five Americans,
Symarip,
Aural Exciters,
The Dirtbombs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Harmonia,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
World's Most,
Alphaville,
Patti Smith,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Buckinghams,
B.T. Express,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fugs,
Goldenarms,
Siglo XX,
Accadde A,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eve St. Jones,
Terrestrial Tones,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Reagan Youth,
Supertramp,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.