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 Equatorial Guinea and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Five Americans to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ 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 harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
The Mummies,
Talk Talk,
The Walker Brothers,
Massinfluence,
Agitation Free,
Sparks,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
James White and The Blacks,
Kas Product,
Crash Course in Science,
The Invisible,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bill Wells,
the Germs,
Slick Rick,
It's A Beautiful Day,
David Bowie,
Zero Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Barracudas,
EPMD,
Moebius,
Skaos,
Glenn Branca,
The Real Kids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Cale,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Zeros,
Bad Manners,
Stereo Dub,
The Durutti Column,
Hashim,
Darondo,
Quadrant,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bauhaus,
Bang On A Can,
Tomorrow,
ABBA,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Almond,
Gang Green,
the Sonics,
Robert Hood,
Colin Newman,
Siglo XX,
Ponytail,
Alison Limerick,
The Fugs,
Motorama,
Mandrill,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultravox,
The Grass Roots,
Cluster,
Tropical Tobacco,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.