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 Palau and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Fatback Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord 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 snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Lindisfarne,
Bill Wells,
Eric Copeland,
Country Teasers,
Blake Baxter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Malaria!,
Franke,
Q and Not U,
The Dead C,
Lower 48,
Robert Wyatt,
Bronski Beat,
Minnie Riperton,
John Cale,
Janne Schatter,
Ronan,
Technova,
Dead Boys,
The Black Dice,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Index,
Supertramp,
Eve St. Jones,
The Zeros,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kurtis Blow,
Pantytec,
Minutemen,
Magma,
Pagans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Surgeon,
World's Most,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stetsasonic,
The Durutti Column,
Scott Walker,
Soul II Soul,
the Swans,
Gabor Szabo,
Slave,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
John Holt,
Unwound,
China Crisis,
Alison Limerick,
Bootsy Collins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Delta 5,
Radio Birdman,
Fela Kuti,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.