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 Australia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Shadows of Knight to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin 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 linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
The Buckinghams,
Basic Channel,
Pulsallama,
The Birthday Party,
Yaz,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Camberwell Now,
Reagan Youth,
Kenny Larkin,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Delta 5,
Cabaret Voltaire,
X-Ray Spex,
Brand Nubian,
Fela Kuti,
Deadbeat,
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sun City Girls,
The Gun Club,
Dave Gahan,
Matthew Bourne,
Khruangbin,
Anakelly,
The Kinks,
The Stooges,
Crime,
Gil Scott Heron,
Average White Band,
Livin' Joy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Niagra,
Vladislav Delay,
Suburban Knight,
Arab on Radar,
Sam Rivers,
Youth Brigade,
Boz Scaggs,
Chris Corsano,
Procol Harum,
Rosa Yemen,
Donald Byrd,
Steve Hackett,
Qualms,
Marshall Jefferson,
CMW,
Jerry's Kids,
Pussy Galore,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hoover,
Drexciya,
Suicide,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hashim,
Byron Stingily,
Minutemen,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.