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 Dominican Republic and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Arcadia to the disco 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 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 sitar and a güiro 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 guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
the Swans,
Blossom Toes,
These Immortal Souls,
Hasil Adkins,
Rod Modell,
John Foxx,
Lungfish,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
X-101,
Bad Manners,
The Saints,
K-Klass,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
Magazine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Main Source,
Interpol,
Wasted Youth,
Slave,
Derrick Morgan,
Fat Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
Joe Smooth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Faraquet,
Sun City Girls,
the Germs,
Swell Maps,
Pagans,
Henry Cow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Brothers Johnson,
Cheater Slicks,
The Seeds,
The Martian,
Minnie Riperton,
Brass Construction,
Sixth Finger,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Names,
Deadbeat,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Moon,
cv313,
Ronnie Foster,
The Mummies,
The Doors,
The Remains,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Banda Bassotti,
Lucky Dragons,
the Soft Cell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Index,
Danielle Patucci,
Crooked Eye,
Kenny Larkin,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.