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 Sudan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Minor Threat to the electroclash 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
The Cowsills,
June of 44,
Yusef Lateef,
Cal Tjader,
Minutemen,
cv313,
Judy Mowatt,
Whodini,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Easy Going,
Wasted Youth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Flag,
Infiniti,
Rakim,
Outsiders,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Martian,
Guru Guru,
Eric Copeland,
Mr. Review,
Lower 48,
David Axelrod,
Brothers Johnson,
Make Up,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Delta 5,
Ten City,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Metal Thangz,
Roger Hodgson,
The Selecter,
Brass Construction,
Model 500,
Donald Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Byrd,
The Motions,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
the Sonics,
The Star Department,
Skarface,
Duran Duran,
Oneida,
Arthur Verocai,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barbara Tucker,
Mandrill,
Cluster,
The J.B.'s,
The Victims,
Rufus Thomas,
The Toasters,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.