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 Liechtenstein and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar 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 Bobby Byrd to the electroclash 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fugs,
Erasure,
the Slits,
Shuggie Otis,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare,
Tubeway Army,
The Smiths,
Black Moon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Zero Boys,
Newcleus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Skarface,
Bobby Womack,
New Age Steppers,
Pharoah Sanders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Warsaw,
Quantec,
Moebius,
Davy DMX,
Severed Heads,
Rufus Thomas,
Peter and Kerry,
Junior Murvin,
The Standells,
John Lydon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Clear Light,
Siglo XX,
John Cale,
MC5,
David Bowie,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scan 7,
Byron Stingily,
Neu!,
Faust,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ohio Players,
Camberwell Now,
Joyce Sims,
New Order,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
Roy Ayers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crime,
The Black Dice,
Country Teasers,
Deadbeat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.