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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba 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 theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Sarah Menescal,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultra Naté,
Index,
Sound Behaviour,
Fela Kuti,
Soft Machine,
DJ Sneak,
The Dirtbombs,
Al Stewart,
Half Japanese,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-101,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Los Fastidios,
Curtis Mayfield,
Echospace,
Hoover,
Black Sheep,
Crash Course in Science,
Sugar Minott,
the Germs,
Magma,
Nils Olav,
Kas Product,
Gang Green,
Jeff Lynne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fall,
The Standells,
Quando Quango,
Visage,
Bobby Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Banda Bassotti,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Spoonie Gee,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Martian,
Josef K,
Fatback Band,
Procol Harum,
Au Pairs,
Tears for Fears,
Chrome,
The Monks,
Cymande,
Blossom Toes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
This Heat,
Make Up,
World's Most,
Agitation Free,
Black Flag,
These Immortal Souls,
The Victims,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.