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 Pakistan and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet 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 L. Decosne to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Simply Red,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Shuggie Otis,
The Searchers,
Marc Almond,
Desert Stars,
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
Severed Heads,
Hardrive,
Marshall Jefferson,
Symarip,
Scientists,
The Fuzztones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Half Japanese,
The Monks,
Magazine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jacob Miller,
Scion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deadbeat,
Piero Umiliani,
Zapp,
The Remains,
Minny Pops,
Technova,
Ultimate Spinach,
Public Enemy,
Young Marble Giants,
Wire,
Television Personalities,
Banda Bassotti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Y Pants,
This Heat,
The Blackbyrds,
Country Joe & The Fish,
ABBA,
The Fortunes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Charles Mingus,
Anakelly,
Negative Approach,
Gichy Dan,
Man Parrish,
Dual Sessions,
Deakin,
Soft Cell,
Dark Day,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gories,
Lalo Schifrin,
Soft Machine,
Connie Case,
The Selecter,
Camouflage,
Whodini,
Darondo,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.