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 Seychelles and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Joy Division to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Arthur Verocai,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Bananas,
Joyce Sims,
Connie Case,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
LL Cool J,
The Divine Comedy,
Intrusion,
Eric B and Rakim,
Delon & Dalcan,
Technova,
T. Rex,
Aural Exciters,
The Gladiators,
The Vogues,
Los Fastidios,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
ABC,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Brass Construction,
Babytalk,
Arab on Radar,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
the Soft Cell,
James White and The Blacks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Misunderstood,
Dennis Brown,
Blossom Toes,
John Coltrane,
Fat Boys,
David McCallum,
Pole,
Graham Central Station,
Schoolly D,
Boredoms,
June of 44,
The Golliwogs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Soulsonic Force,
Negative Approach,
Lindisfarne,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
the Normal,
The Pretty Things,
R.M.O.,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Anakelly,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Star Department,
Jeff Lynne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Silicon Teens,
Soft Machine,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.