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 Mozambique and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Mandrill to the dance 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground 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 rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Royal Trux,
The Standells,
Chris Corsano,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Basic Channel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mark Hollis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Moss Icon,
Deadbeat,
The Invisible,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
The Leaves,
Todd Terry,
the Normal,
Al Stewart,
R.M.O.,
Rites of Spring,
The Zeros,
Little Man,
Ice-T,
Fat Boys,
Joe Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Human League,
The Blues Magoos,
Guru Guru,
The Litter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Schoolly D,
Panda Bear,
Bush Tetras,
Connie Case,
F. McDonald,
Marvin Gaye,
Jimmy McGriff,
Warsaw,
The Real Kids,
Minor Threat,
The Beau Brummels,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Laurel Aitken,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dave Gahan,
Harry Pussy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sarah Menescal,
Slave,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gong,
the Association,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rotary Connection,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.