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 Eritrea and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro 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 oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Bobby Womack,
Grey Daturas,
Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Walker Brothers,
Zapp,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Prunes,
Iggy Pop,
Althea and Donna,
Neil Young,
Bill Wells,
The Stooges,
David McCallum,
The Count Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Half Japanese,
Cal Tjader,
The Blues Magoos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fela Kuti,
Pantaleimon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ituana,
Eurythmics,
The Pop Group,
Bluetip,
T.S.O.L.,
Skaos,
The New Christs,
Little Man,
The Last Poets,
The Human League,
Amon Düül,
Jawbox,
Hashim,
Brand Nubian,
Lindisfarne,
Jerry's Kids,
Pagans,
Ultravox,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fuzztones,
The Young Rascals,
Sällskapet,
Deakin,
Radiohead,
The Raincoats,
Tomorrow,
Mission of Burma,
Nils Olav,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Byron Stingily,
Mr. Review,
Man Parrish,
Jeff Lynne,
Brothers Johnson,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.