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 Tanzania and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Mad Mike to the grunge 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell 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?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Avey Tare,
Jacques Brel,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drive Like Jehu,
B.T. Express,
One Last Wish,
The Slackers,
Anakelly,
Guru Guru,
Radiopuhelimet,
Moss Icon,
The Standells,
The Evens,
Negative Approach,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bush Tetras,
Alison Limerick,
Sixth Finger,
June of 44,
Mark Hollis,
Yellowson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kevin Saunderson,
Camberwell Now,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Birthday Party,
Soft Machine,
Don Cherry,
Black Moon,
Pole,
The Victims,
Connie Case,
The Slits,
Frankie Knuckles,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ice-T,
A Certain Ratio,
Au Pairs,
Technova,
Prince Buster,
Reagan Youth,
Magma,
Carl Craig,
The Zeros,
Q65,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fatback Band,
Adolescents,
Suicide,
Angry Samoans,
Kurtis Blow,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Normal,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Neu!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.