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 Togo and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Dead C to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes 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 chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Main Source,
Barbara Tucker,
Max Romeo,
The Standells,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slits,
Pantaleimon,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Green,
Ohio Players,
Neil Young,
Khruangbin,
Flash Fearless,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Goldenarms,
Marvin Gaye,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hashim,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Monochrome Set,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tom Boy,
Sister Nancy,
Brand Nubian,
Jimmy McGriff,
Simply Red,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pulsallama,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Wolf Eyes,
LL Cool J,
Boogie Down Productions,
B.T. Express,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dirtbombs,
Sun City Girls,
The Skatalites,
The Detroit Cobras,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Clarke,
Can,
The Fall,
The Misunderstood,
cv313,
The Neon Judgement,
Duran Duran,
Subhumans,
Eddi Front,
Sällskapet,
K-Klass,
Oneida,
Godley & Creme,
The Names,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.