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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the rock 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb 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 snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Anthony Braxton,
Sam Rivers,
Dead Boys,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Gories,
Lucky Dragons,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobby Byrd,
Morten Harket,
Moby Grape,
Inner City,
Lou Reed,
Erasure,
Cluster,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Womack,
The Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Anakelly,
Gang of Four,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
FM Einheit,
David Bowie,
The Buckinghams,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Khruangbin,
Heaven 17,
The Neon Judgement,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Parry Music,
Trumans Water,
Ten City,
Barbara Tucker,
Pantytec,
Deadbeat,
David Axelrod,
the Bar-Kays,
The Vogues,
the Germs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
In Retrospect,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Sherman,
Massinfluence,
D'Angelo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
Eric Copeland,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rod Modell,
Henry Cow,
The Victims,
Outsiders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hot Snakes,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.