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 San Marino and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Quadrant to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
The Doors,
The Birthday Party,
In Retrospect,
Mars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deadbeat,
The Mojo Men,
Barbara Tucker,
The Remains,
The Knickerbockers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Banda Bassotti,
Erasure,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moby Grape,
Thee Headcoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alison Limerick,
The Trojans,
a-ha,
Rakim,
Crooked Eye,
The American Breed,
The Motions,
Arcadia,
The Mummies,
The Kinks,
Panda Bear,
Ronan,
Matthew Halsall,
Franke,
The Happenings,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Prunes,
Stetsasonic,
Roy Ayers,
Isaac Hayes,
The Real Kids,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Brick,
AZ,
Vainqueur,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Bar-Kays,
Kurtis Blow,
ABBA,
Cybotron,
Deepchord,
The Alarm Clocks,
Byron Stingily,
Rufus Thomas,
Magma,
Model 500,
Moss Icon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Faraquet,
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.