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 Korea South and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Vladislav Delay to the grime 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe 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 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Fluxion,
Michelle Simonal,
Tommy Roe,
Matthew Halsall,
Mr. Review,
World's Most,
Heaven 17,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Flipper,
Girls At Our Best!,
Underground Resistance,
Ornette Coleman,
Anthony Braxton,
Bob Dylan,
Pantaleimon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Style,
The Monochrome Set,
Tears for Fears,
Black Flag,
Pierre Henry,
Blancmange,
Warsaw,
Josef K,
The New Christs,
Yazoo,
Erykah Badu,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Joyce Sims,
E-Dancer,
T.S.O.L.,
Amazonics,
Angry Samoans,
Eric Copeland,
The Happenings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brick,
Section 25,
H. Thieme,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Al Stewart,
Nick Fraelich,
Wire,
Deepchord,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Buckinghams,
Archie Shepp,
EPMD,
John Holt,
Gang Green,
Audionom,
Bauhaus,
Ronan,
Davy DMX,
Lalann,
Alice Coltrane,
OOIOO,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.