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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Barracudas to the jazz 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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba 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 snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hoover,
Inner City,
DNA,
Bobby Sherman,
These Immortal Souls,
Oblivians,
the Swans,
Quantec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Doors,
Jacques Brel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gories,
Marcia Griffiths,
Alton Ellis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Banda Bassotti,
Slick Rick,
Ten City,
Dawn Penn,
Kurtis Blow,
Howard Jones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scrapy,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Almond,
Toni Rubio,
The Toasters,
Letta Mbulu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Graham Central Station,
Pet Shop Boys,
Underground Resistance,
Jandek,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Monks,
Los Fastidios,
Minnie Riperton,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David Bowie,
Zapp,
Reuben Wilson,
Niagra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Agitation Free,
Aural Exciters,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Boredoms,
Cameo,
Nils Olav,
Gang Starr,
Mo-Dettes,
Ken Boothe,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.