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 Qatar and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Anakelly,
E-Dancer,
Soulsonic Force,
Ken Boothe,
UT,
A Certain Ratio,
Bluetip,
Drexciya,
Blancmange,
Judy Mowatt,
Lalann,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Frankie Knuckles,
Camouflage,
Spandau Ballet,
Erasure,
Junior Murvin,
The Dirtbombs,
The Blues Magoos,
Cluster,
Johnny Osbourne,
Unrelated Segments,
The Martian,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dorothy Ashby,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Wyatt,
Fugazi,
Desert Stars,
Quando Quango,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
Little Man,
The Fortunes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Organ,
Warsaw,
Excepter,
Theoretical Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nik Kershaw,
Radio Birdman,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Angels of Light,
Gabor Szabo,
Alton Ellis,
The Kinks,
Marshall Jefferson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Byrd,
Derrick May,
Mark Hollis,
Angry Samoans,
Marine Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Bad Manners,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jacob Miller,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.