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 Dominica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Soft Cell to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
the Slits,
John Cale,
Ludus,
Charles Mingus,
The Neon Judgement,
Minutemen,
Livin' Joy,
Eric Copeland,
Animal Collective,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lindisfarne,
The Mummies,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang of Four,
Joe Finger,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick Morgan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grauzone,
Fat Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Birthday Party,
Tim Buckley,
Sandy B,
Slick Rick,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dead Boys,
Soul II Soul,
Nas,
Radiohead,
Rosa Yemen,
Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Outsiders,
Faraquet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Delta 5,
Kerrie Biddell,
E-Dancer,
June of 44,
Mars,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobby Womack,
Derrick May,
Reagan Youth,
The Selecter,
Qualms,
Whodini,
Visage,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxy Music,
Big Daddy Kane,
Roxette,
Maurizio,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.