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 Kyrgyzstan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the disco 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron 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 marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fad Gadget,
The Smiths,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Coltrane,
Ludus,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Wells,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aural Exciters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fear,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gladiators,
Roger Hodgson,
Freddie Wadling,
Monks,
Warren Ellis,
48th St. Collective,
Porter Ricks,
Zapp,
B.T. Express,
Sexual Harrassment,
Donny Hathaway,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Soft Cell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Byron Stingily,
Lou Christie,
The Raincoats,
Can,
a-ha,
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Reed,
June Days,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Sam Rivers,
Godley & Creme,
Metal Thangz,
Mandrill,
Patti Smith,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
June of 44,
The Trojans,
The Star Department,
Connie Case,
Marmalade,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Chris Corsano,
The Victims,
The Red Krayola,
Barry Ungar,
Charles Mingus,
Bill Near,
Minutemen,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.