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 Namibia and from London.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 The Smoke to the jazz 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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
The Toasters,
Stiv Bators,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Durutti Column,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Negative Approach,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Average White Band,
Eric Copeland,
David Axelrod,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
L. Decosne,
The Last Poets,
Sister Nancy,
Dead Boys,
The Martian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mission of Burma,
Mandrill,
Ronnie Foster,
Slave,
The Techniques,
Fort Wilson Riot,
John Cale,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lou Reed,
Arcadia,
The Raincoats,
Dawn Penn,
Chris Corsano,
The Remains,
Visage,
Kas Product,
Roger Hodgson,
Wings,
Niagra,
Dorothy Ashby,
Roxette,
Minny Pops,
Country Teasers,
F. McDonald,
Infiniti,
Funkadelic,
The Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
Icehouse,
Das Ding,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fugs,
Scratch Acid,
Q and Not U,
Kaleidoscope,
Sound Behaviour,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.