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 Andorra and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe 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 mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
the Human League,
Fear,
48th St. Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mars,
The Moody Blues,
Little Man,
Vladislav Delay,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
X-102,
Negative Approach,
R.M.O.,
Franke,
Yellowson,
One Last Wish,
Nik Kershaw,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang Green,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aural Exciters,
Parry Music,
Brass Construction,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joey Negro,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Moebius,
Index,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang On A Can,
Rod Modell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Colin Newman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Howard Jones,
Scott Walker,
Metal Thangz,
Sparks,
Marc Almond,
Clear Light,
John Coltrane,
The Tremeloes,
Kenny Larkin,
June Days,
Arthur Verocai,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smiths,
Aaron Thompson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Flag,
Flamin' Groovies,
Prince Buster,
Rufus Thomas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sex Pistols,
Bill Wells,
Arab on Radar,
Blancmange,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.