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 Russia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ 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 oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
Glenn Branca,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
Flipper,
John Cale,
The Dead C,
Sonic Youth,
Lou Reed,
Subhumans,
The Fuzztones,
Surgeon,
Con Funk Shun,
Dennis Brown,
The Seeds,
New York Dolls,
the Soft Cell,
Eurythmics,
Q65,
Oblivians,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cameo,
The Skatalites,
The Martian,
Anthony Braxton,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reuben Wilson,
Sound Behaviour,
Toni Rubio,
Talk Talk,
Symarip,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Neu!,
The Fortunes,
Essential Logic,
The Remains,
Make Up,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Howard Jones,
Hot Snakes,
Fad Gadget,
The Stooges,
Gichy Dan,
The Smoke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Holt,
Japan,
Quadrant,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hoover,
Arab on Radar,
The Beau Brummels,
FM Einheit,
Black Sheep,
Black Flag,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Zeros,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.