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 Tajikistan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Amon Düül to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator 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 clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
The Detroit Cobras,
Schoolly D,
ABBA,
Deadbeat,
The New Christs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grey Daturas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Albert Ayler,
Procol Harum,
The Dead C,
Leonard Cohen,
Tres Demented,
Rapeman,
Bauhaus,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Brass Construction,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
Matthew Bourne,
The Selecter,
The Moody Blues,
Q and Not U,
The Trojans,
The Human League,
Oneida,
The Barracudas,
Eli Mardock,
Judy Mowatt,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Leaves,
OOIOO,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gories,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fear,
Shuggie Otis,
Charles Mingus,
R.M.O.,
Minnie Riperton,
Roxy Music,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Niagra,
Bush Tetras,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Whodini,
Silicon Teens,
Ornette Coleman,
H. Thieme,
Ralphi Rosario,
Faraquet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Real Kids,
The Sound,
Liliput,
Y Pants,
Pharoah Sanders,
Metal Thangz,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.