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 Luxembourg and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Techniques to the electroclash 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum 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 harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
OOIOO,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Slick Rick,
Delon & Dalcan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter & Gordon,
Mission of Burma,
Isaac Hayes,
Brass Construction,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
LL Cool J,
Theoretical Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric Copeland,
Mr. Review,
Moebius,
Nils Olav,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gang of Four,
the Germs,
Subhumans,
Neu!,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lower 48,
Oneida,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Boz Scaggs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rakim,
Scan 7,
Amazonics,
Moss Icon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Knickerbockers,
Mad Mike,
Aural Exciters,
The Offenders,
Alison Limerick,
John Holt,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pierre Henry,
Eli Mardock,
Cheater Slicks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Heaven 17,
the Human League,
Essential Logic,
Johnny Osbourne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
UT,
Blossom Toes,
The J.B.'s,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.