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 Liberia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk 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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Skarface,
Spandau Ballet,
Arab on Radar,
The Birthday Party,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Womack,
The Moleskins,
Matthew Halsall,
The United States of America,
Flamin' Groovies,
Porter Ricks,
a-ha,
Funky Four + One,
Unwound,
Bootsy Collins,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lyres,
The Evens,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Durutti Column,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ohio Players,
Zapp,
Quadrant,
Bizarre Inc.,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Reed,
David Axelrod,
Amon Düül,
Cameo,
Gang Starr,
Peter and Kerry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gang of Four,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fugazi,
the Swans,
Severed Heads,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Supertramp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kayak,
Symarip,
Babytalk,
Circle Jerks,
The Gap Band,
Mission of Burma,
Soft Cell,
Alton Ellis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Finger,
Donny Hathaway,
Nils Olav,
Arthur Verocai,
Masters at Work,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wings,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joyce Sims,
Silicon Teens,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.