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 Turkmenistan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eurythmics to the grime 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye 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?
Barrington Levy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Suburban Knight,
The Saints,
Warsaw,
Brothers Johnson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
John Cale,
Dark Day,
The Searchers,
Organ,
Porter Ricks,
Cluster,
Alphaville,
Sixth Finger,
X-101,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Starr,
Funky Four + One,
Minnie Riperton,
Marine Girls,
Japan,
Motorama,
Morten Harket,
Marmalade,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Human League,
Metal Thangz,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Associates,
Severed Heads,
Banda Bassotti,
the Bar-Kays,
Sarah Menescal,
The Zeros,
Michelle Simonal,
The Gories,
Das Ding,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scrapy,
The Busters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Trumans Water,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gladiators,
Slick Rick,
Con Funk Shun,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Quantec,
Babytalk,
Electric Prunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
The New Christs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Moby Grape,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Womack,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.