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 Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Thee Headcoats 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar 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 clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
The Slits,
Sun Ra,
Faraquet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Reagan Youth,
T. Rex,
The Human League,
Liliput,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Coltrane,
Rhythm & Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
Warsaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yazoo,
Wally Richardson,
The Misunderstood,
The Barracudas,
Joe Finger,
The Saints,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus,
Shuggie Otis,
Marvin Gaye,
Nirvana,
The Associates,
The New Christs,
Bootsy Collins,
The Names,
The American Breed,
Lou Christie,
The Walker Brothers,
The Knickerbockers,
a-ha,
Nico,
Angry Samoans,
The Gap Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Bananas,
Faust,
Rites of Spring,
The Searchers,
Gabor Szabo,
Make Up,
Iggy Pop,
Jimmy McGriff,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tubeway Army,
David Bowie,
Drive Like Jehu,
Groovy Waters,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.