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 Uzbekistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin 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 güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eve St. Jones,
Wasted Youth,
The Golliwogs,
Electric Prunes,
the Soft Cell,
Yaz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Young Rascals,
Bob Dylan,
The Toasters,
Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
Symarip,
Brick,
Glenn Branca,
Little Man,
Nik Kershaw,
Steve Hackett,
The New Christs,
Lalann,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shoche,
Saccharine Trust,
Pierre Henry,
Agitation Free,
Easy Going,
Radio Birdman,
Fela Kuti,
Tommy Roe,
Quadrant,
Colin Newman,
The Martian,
Japan,
Roy Ayers,
David Axelrod,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Throbbing Gristle,
Brass Construction,
The Kinks,
Lindisfarne,
Hashim,
The Wake,
F. McDonald,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lower 48,
The Move,
Ronnie Foster,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crime,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rotary Connection,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.