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 Netherlands and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Litter to the crunk 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
June of 44,
the Soft Cell,
Sam Rivers,
Ronan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bill Wells,
Duran Duran,
Boogie Down Productions,
Moebius,
Monks,
Sound Behaviour,
The Litter,
Country Teasers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeff Mills,
The Leaves,
John Holt,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Fugs,
Nik Kershaw,
Eric Dolphy,
Subhumans,
Lou Reed,
Soul II Soul,
Drexciya,
Oneida,
The J.B.'s,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Toni Rubio,
Johnny Clarke,
Ken Boothe,
Deakin,
Frankie Knuckles,
B.T. Express,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bauhaus,
The Mummies,
FM Einheit,
Funkadelic,
The Fall,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Residents,
Lakeside,
U.S. Maple,
Sex Pistols,
The Young Rascals,
Mad Mike,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sonics,
Erasure,
The Real Kids,
Von Mondo,
Blossom Toes,
The Buckinghams,
James White and The Blacks,
Cluster,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.