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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lou Reed to the rock 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Ken Boothe,
Monolake,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Offenders,
Duran Duran,
The Birthday Party,
Ultra Naté,
Charles Mingus,
Wolf Eyes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Q65,
The Selecter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
The Saints,
The Durutti Column,
The Blues Magoos,
Jacob Miller,
This Heat,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Main Source,
Mars,
The New Christs,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gun Club,
Loose Ends,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Sixth Finger,
The J.B.'s,
Liliput,
Ultravox,
Skriet,
ABC,
Anakelly,
Donny Hathaway,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Adolescents,
Country Teasers,
LL Cool J,
Organ,
Radiopuhelimet,
Stiv Bators,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
DJ Style,
Pagans,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Blackbyrds,
Trumans Water,
Hoover,
Echospace,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eli Mardock,
Subhumans,
Zero Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
Nico,
David Bowie,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.