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 Namibia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jeff Lynne to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Porter Ricks,
Reagan Youth,
Minor Threat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Basic Channel,
Can,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Piero Umiliani,
John Holt,
Hoover,
Blossom Toes,
Q65,
New York Dolls,
Blancmange,
Frankie Knuckles,
Matthew Bourne,
Moebius,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rekid,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marmalade,
Model 500,
Archie Shepp,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rites of Spring,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boz Scaggs,
Adolescents,
Cal Tjader,
Idris Muhammad,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Clarke,
Newcleus,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Patti Smith,
R.M.O.,
Ten City,
Aaron Thompson,
Skarface,
Amazonics,
the Swans,
Main Source,
Freddie Wadling,
Brass Construction,
Girls At Our Best!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deepchord,
Gerry Rafferty,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Order,
Scientists,
Marvin Gaye,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Camberwell Now,
The Buckinghams,
The Angels of Light,
The Red Krayola,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.