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 Liechtenstein and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar 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 The Slackers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 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 chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Germs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Underground Resistance,
The Red Krayola,
The Fugs,
Wings,
Laurel Aitken,
The Kinks,
Glenn Branca,
The Residents,
Adolescents,
Jerry Gold Smith,
JFA,
The Doors,
The Slits,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
Youth Brigade,
Make Up,
Qualms,
Eden Ahbez,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Modern Lovers,
The Techniques,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Sheep,
The Moody Blues,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacques Brel,
Pantaleimon,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Holt,
Urselle,
June Days,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Depeche Mode,
Matthew Halsall,
Fela Kuti,
John Lydon,
Brick,
Oneida,
Derrick Morgan,
The Young Rascals,
The Gun Club,
Unrelated Segments,
Eddi Front,
The Music Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Names,
Popol Vuh,
Gang of Four,
Glambeats Corp.,
Deakin,
Babytalk,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Terry,
ABC,
Reagan Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.