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 Bolivia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Intrusion to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 mellotron 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 organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Negative Approach,
Ultravox,
Tommy Roe,
X-102,
Black Moon,
Marmalade,
Monolake,
Lungfish,
Quando Quango,
Swell Maps,
The Neon Judgement,
Erykah Badu,
Gong,
Lyres,
Ronan,
Bob Dylan,
Visage,
Brick,
Fad Gadget,
Nik Kershaw,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris Corsano,
John Cale,
Amazonics,
Junior Murvin,
the Swans,
Liliput,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Parry Music,
Fela Kuti,
Faraquet,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Monks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brothers Johnson,
June of 44,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
The Names,
The Busters,
The Human League,
K-Klass,
Moby Grape,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Magazine,
Joyce Sims,
Eden Ahbez,
The Vogues,
The Index,
Urselle,
Quadrant,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxy Music,
Aloha Tigers,
Ronnie Foster,
Fluxion,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cluster,
Angry Samoans,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.