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 Finland and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe 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 Gabor Szabo to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 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 synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
The Dirtbombs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pussy Galore,
Inner City,
the Germs,
Nation of Ulysses,
EPMD,
Livin' Joy,
X-102,
One Last Wish,
Robert Görl,
Sandy B,
The Fuzztones,
Skriet,
The Mummies,
E-Dancer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Zero Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Scrapy,
KRS-One,
Bad Manners,
Dead Boys,
The Doors,
The Neon Judgement,
Flash Fearless,
Negative Approach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Con Funk Shun,
Reuben Wilson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Parry Music,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Subhumans,
Angry Samoans,
John Coltrane,
Q65,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wings,
Deakin,
The Knickerbockers,
The Moody Blues,
Eurythmics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kevin Saunderson,
Boz Scaggs,
Aural Exciters,
R.M.O.,
Mars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Spoonie Gee,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rapeman,
The Litter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kas Product,
Sun Ra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alton Ellis,
Harmonia,
Ituana,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.