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 Vietnam and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Archie Shepp to the funk 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
June of 44,
Ice-T,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Neu!,
Donald Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Guru Guru,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pierre Henry,
the Soft Cell,
Sällskapet,
Howard Jones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Infiniti,
Graham Central Station,
Khruangbin,
Eric Dolphy,
The Last Poets,
JFA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eddi Front,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roxy Music,
The Misunderstood,
Bill Wells,
Magazine,
The Beau Brummels,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang of Four,
Gastr Del Sol,
Judy Mowatt,
X-101,
E-Dancer,
Monks,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
Blancmange,
Boredoms,
K-Klass,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
Bill Near,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wasted Youth,
Banda Bassotti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Simply Red,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Babytalk,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cymande,
Fad Gadget,
Tom Boy,
Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal.
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.