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 Morocco and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Goldenarms to the funk 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord 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 an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Ultra Naté,
Zapp,
Los Fastidios,
New York Dolls,
The New Christs,
Brand Nubian,
New Age Steppers,
Judy Mowatt,
Yusef Lateef,
Pierre Henry,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
Basic Channel,
The American Breed,
Visage,
Rapeman,
Hasil Adkins,
the Slits,
Ossler,
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tears for Fears,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
H. Thieme,
the Normal,
Terry Callier,
Robert Wyatt,
The Toasters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Parry Music,
Desert Stars,
The Detroit Cobras,
Siglo XX,
Camouflage,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Khruangbin,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Music Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fluxion,
The Slackers,
The Durutti Column,
Marmalade,
Gichy Dan,
Quantec,
Panda Bear,
Y Pants,
The Barracudas,
Lucky Dragons,
Stereo Dub,
The Dirtbombs,
Grey Daturas,
Jesper Dahlback,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.