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 Kiribati and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Matthew Bourne to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Freddie Wadling,
Simply Red,
Cluster,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gap Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Make Up,
Matthew Bourne,
Tubeway Army,
Jawbox,
Desert Stars,
Pagans,
The Slits,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Parry Music,
Joyce Sims,
MDC,
Susan Cadogan,
Trumans Water,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stiv Bators,
Derrick May,
The Trojans,
Sixth Finger,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Sherman,
Shoche,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed,
Niagra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Second Layer,
Crime,
Liliput,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Iggy Pop,
This Heat,
Peter and Kerry,
Grauzone,
Curtis Mayfield,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Roy Ayers,
Faust,
Grey Daturas,
Circle Jerks,
Procol Harum,
the Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Godley & Creme,
The Standells,
LL Cool J,
The Detroit Cobras,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang of Four,
Infiniti,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.