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 El Salvador and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sugar Minott to the techno 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron 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 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Tom Boy,
Joyce Sims,
Cluster,
The Stooges,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
The Dirtbombs,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
The Move,
Duran Duran,
Peter and Kerry,
Robert Wyatt,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bluetip,
Mary Jane Girls,
Max Romeo,
Anakelly,
The Music Machine,
D'Angelo,
Black Moon,
Nick Fraelich,
Alton Ellis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eve St. Jones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Simply Red,
Thompson Twins,
The Beau Brummels,
The Star Department,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Holt,
F. McDonald,
Peter & Gordon,
Franke,
Monks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Grey Daturas,
The Tremeloes,
The Red Krayola,
Pharoah Sanders,
Spoonie Gee,
John Cale,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mad Mike,
Eurythmics,
Barrington Levy,
Ronan,
Junior Murvin,
The Blackbyrds,
Con Funk Shun,
ABC,
X-101,
Erasure,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Infiniti,
Blossom Toes,
In Retrospect,
Kerri Chandler,
The Buckinghams,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.