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 Guinea-Bissau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scion to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe 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 mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Archie Shepp,
Eddi Front,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Tremeloes,
Camouflage,
Simply Red,
The Slits,
The Walker Brothers,
Metal Thangz,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Audionom,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Chris & Cosey,
James White and The Blacks,
Marmalade,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
Lower 48,
Eli Mardock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kenny Larkin,
Peter and Kerry,
Talk Talk,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Symarip,
Nico,
Loose Ends,
Blake Baxter,
Ohio Players,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ituana,
Alton Ellis,
B.T. Express,
Black Pus,
Wings,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
T. Rex,
Sun City Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Schoolly D,
EPMD,
The Mojo Men,
Fear,
Pole,
Isaac Hayes,
Rapeman,
Rakim,
Brick,
The Martian,
Joey Negro,
The Zeros,
Marc Almond,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.