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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Boogie Down Productions to the grunge 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
the Soft Cell,
Donald Byrd,
Popol Vuh,
Sam Rivers,
James White and The Blacks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pulsallama,
Vladislav Delay,
Harry Pussy,
Mad Mike,
Soft Machine,
The Leaves,
The Invisible,
X-102,
CMW,
Reagan Youth,
The Associates,
The Black Dice,
Mandrill,
Blossom Toes,
Godley & Creme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Womack,
Blake Baxter,
Arcadia,
Ken Boothe,
Gang Starr,
Soul II Soul,
Main Source,
Rhythm & Sound,
Circle Jerks,
The Slackers,
Barbara Tucker,
Sight & Sound,
MC5,
Minny Pops,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dual Sessions,
Wire,
Lou Reed,
The Red Krayola,
Yellowson,
Negative Approach,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Maurizio,
Juan Atkins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Arthur Verocai,
Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
Cal Tjader,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Carl Craig,
Lyres,
The Kinks,
The Gladiators,
Tubeway Army,
Oblivians,
Inner City,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.