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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Absolute Body Control to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare 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 guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Pop Group,
Franke,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Golliwogs,
Thee Headcoats,
Janne Schatter,
Icehouse,
Pole,
Jandek,
Roy Ayers,
Slave,
Q and Not U,
A Certain Ratio,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eric Dolphy,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
Spandau Ballet,
K-Klass,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Star Department,
Warsaw,
Swell Maps,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Blossom Toes,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Teasers,
The Birthday Party,
Chrome,
Arcadia,
Bluetip,
Tres Demented,
Fear,
kango's stein massive,
Basic Channel,
8 Eyed Spy,
Subhumans,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra,
Rekid,
Morten Harket,
Gang of Four,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Lynne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joey Negro,
Rosa Yemen,
John Coltrane,
Sällskapet,
Dark Day,
Byron Stingily,
Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.