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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Erykah Badu to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Deakin,
Blossom Toes,
Chris & Cosey,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
H. Thieme,
Mary Jane Girls,
AZ,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scientists,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Normal,
Simply Red,
Niagra,
Lindisfarne,
The New Christs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Byrd,
Lou Christie,
Heaven 17,
The Electric Prunes,
FM Einheit,
Pantytec,
Alice Coltrane,
The Motions,
Boredoms,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cure,
Tubeway Army,
Symarip,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Reagan Youth,
One Last Wish,
Sun City Girls,
The Barracudas,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
Half Japanese,
The Litter,
The Dead C,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
Rotary Connection,
The Names,
X-102,
The Red Krayola,
John Cale,
Todd Rundgren,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ice-T,
Skriet,
Public Enemy,
The Smoke,
Tommy Roe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
David McCallum,
Chrome,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bush Tetras,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.