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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Bad Manners to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Womack,
Minnie Riperton,
R.M.O.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ossler,
Blake Baxter,
Spoonie Gee,
Bill Near,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ken Boothe,
Joey Negro,
the Human League,
Can,
John Holt,
Byron Stingily,
Man Parrish,
Faust,
The Smoke,
The Tremeloes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Seeds,
Panda Bear,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Flash Fearless,
The Cure,
Supertramp,
Desert Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Motions,
Stiv Bators,
Zapp,
Moebius,
Sun Ra,
The Skatalites,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Al Stewart,
Jerry's Kids,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ohio Players,
Quantec,
The Cramps,
Banda Bassotti,
Marmalade,
Dual Sessions,
Donald Byrd,
E-Dancer,
La Düsseldorf,
The Leaves,
Pole,
Sparks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nirvana,
The Sonics,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Neon Judgement,
David Axelrod,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.