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 Czech Republic and from Stockholm.
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 Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Goldenarms to the crunk 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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro 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 rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Graham Central Station,
The Slits,
Whodini,
Unwound,
Stockholm Monsters,
Model 500,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fad Gadget,
T. Rex,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Juan Atkins,
Zero Boys,
Rekid,
Wolf Eyes,
Jawbox,
Altered Images,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Fall,
Brass Construction,
Funky Four + One,
Half Japanese,
Fugazi,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barbara Tucker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Porter Ricks,
Kas Product,
Chrome,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eve St. Jones,
Moss Icon,
The Evens,
The Martian,
Byron Stingily,
La Düsseldorf,
The Mummies,
In Retrospect,
Sun Ra,
Popol Vuh,
Fear,
Audionom,
Easy Going,
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
DJ Style,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Q and Not U,
Royal Trux,
Sister Nancy,
Joensuu 1685,
Symarip,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
a-ha,
Bobby Womack,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.