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 Brunei and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the guitar 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 Cymande to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oneida,
Tears for Fears,
The Fortunes,
Newcleus,
Kerri Chandler,
Pussy Galore,
Cymande,
Wolf Eyes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Freddie Wadling,
Monolake,
Davy DMX,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Howard Jones,
Franke,
The Cramps,
Brass Construction,
Alton Ellis,
Jawbox,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barbara Tucker,
Moebius,
AZ,
Soul II Soul,
Morten Harket,
Scratch Acid,
Jacques Brel,
UT,
Wasted Youth,
The J.B.'s,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Underground Resistance,
The Mojo Men,
the Normal,
The Toasters,
Robert Görl,
Grey Daturas,
Deakin,
Metal Thangz,
Masters at Work,
Ultravox,
June of 44,
The Victims,
LL Cool J,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Average White Band,
The Techniques,
Vainqueur,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Slave,
Rotary Connection,
The Shadows of Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
The Move,
ABBA,
Silicon Teens,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.