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 Georgia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a marimba 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 clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
Jacques Brel,
Section 25,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Count Five,
Black Pus,
Nick Fraelich,
Swell Maps,
The Wake,
Kas Product,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Christie,
Joy Division,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
Gang of Four,
Spandau Ballet,
Yellowson,
Joe Finger,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Fuzztones,
Silicon Teens,
Deepchord,
PIL,
Black Flag,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Skriet,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skaos,
Q and Not U,
The Red Krayola,
Marmalade,
Das Ding,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
8 Eyed Spy,
David McCallum,
Gregory Isaacs,
Altered Images,
Jerry's Kids,
Laurel Aitken,
Nas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aaron Thompson,
Kayak,
Outsiders,
Visage,
Marine Girls,
Rekid,
John Lydon,
The New Christs,
Pussy Galore,
Zapp,
Agitation Free,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.