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 Swaziland and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba 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 R.M.O. to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a guitar 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 arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
Scratch Acid,
Jeff Mills,
Ice-T,
The Toasters,
Tim Buckley,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultravox,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
Vladislav Delay,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Smog,
Crime,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Bananas,
Y Pants,
The Red Krayola,
Jawbox,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
Model 500,
Black Flag,
Metal Thangz,
Mandrill,
The Electric Prunes,
The Durutti Column,
Oblivians,
Whodini,
John Foxx,
Siglo XX,
Skaos,
Ken Boothe,
Ultra Naté,
Prince Buster,
Barbara Tucker,
Johnny Osbourne,
June of 44,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lindisfarne,
Camberwell Now,
Jeff Lynne,
the Human League,
The Fire Engines,
Main Source,
Jerry's Kids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Supertramp,
Jandek,
Jacques Brel,
Maurizio,
Ronan,
John Cale,
Soft Machine,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gap Band,
The Young Rascals,
Rapeman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thee Headcoats,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.