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 Netherlands and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Barry Ungar to the grunge 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and an oboe 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 chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
The Gun Club,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lungfish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Donny Hathaway,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
E-Dancer,
Talk Talk,
the Human League,
Thompson Twins,
Lou Reed,
Vladislav Delay,
Technova,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
Minutemen,
Gong,
Sam Rivers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Das Ding,
Sly & The Family Stone,
KRS-One,
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
Cal Tjader,
Shuggie Otis,
Drexciya,
Black Sheep,
Toni Rubio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jerry's Kids,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Flesh Eaters,
Warsaw,
Procol Harum,
Sixth Finger,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
EPMD,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Trumans Water,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Steve Hackett,
The Young Rascals,
Von Mondo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amazonics,
Juan Atkins,
Babytalk,
Roxy Music,
Minny Pops,
Mission of Burma,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.