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 Belize and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a sitar 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 güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Wings,
Aural Exciters,
Sugar Minott,
The Fugs,
The Remains,
Gang Green,
Lou Christie,
Hoover,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Howard Jones,
Warsaw,
Barrington Levy,
Aloha Tigers,
Anthony Braxton,
The Barracudas,
Black Flag,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joensuu 1685,
The Busters,
Camouflage,
Accadde A,
Todd Rundgren,
Eddi Front,
Fear,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wasted Youth,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fuzztones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stiv Bators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Charles Mingus,
The Electric Prunes,
Ossler,
Boogie Down Productions,
T. Rex,
The Doors,
Kurtis Blow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Saccharine Trust,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grey Daturas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Peter and Kerry,
The Names,
Ice-T,
Marine Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
Frankie Knuckles,
R.M.O.,
Parry Music,
Motorama,
Barry Ungar,
Dennis Brown,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.