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 Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 the Human League to the crunk 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a rhodes 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 rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alice Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Khruangbin,
This Heat,
Tim Buckley,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kaleidoscope,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fugs,
Ice-T,
Heaven 17,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Robert Hood,
Scrapy,
cv313,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Metal Thangz,
Massinfluence,
Grey Daturas,
The Evens,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Happenings,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Donald Byrd,
Bad Manners,
Altered Images,
Hoover,
Echospace,
Stockholm Monsters,
ABBA,
Mantronix,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Reagan Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arcadia,
Niagra,
The Motions,
The Divine Comedy,
Reuben Wilson,
The Residents,
The Associates,
Deakin,
Funkadelic,
The Grass Roots,
Severed Heads,
Ronan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bang On A Can,
Lalann,
Silicon Teens,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Unwound,
These Immortal Souls,
Rites of Spring,
Rosa Yemen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.