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 Rwanda and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 The Techniques to the dance 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ 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 theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Jerry's Kids,
OOIOO,
The Cure,
Lou Christie,
Deakin,
the Slits,
The Golliwogs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joy Division,
The Smiths,
Colin Newman,
The Count Five,
Monks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Arcadia,
Outsiders,
The Birthday Party,
Dead Boys,
Jawbox,
Cecil Taylor,
Oneida,
The Monks,
Alice Coltrane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Newcleus,
Faust,
Lower 48,
Kayak,
Black Sheep,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cramps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Underground Resistance,
Ossler,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Reagan Youth,
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Agent Orange,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
Procol Harum,
Yazoo,
Soft Machine,
Suburban Knight,
the Soft Cell,
the Association,
Gichy Dan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kenny Larkin,
Country Teasers,
Suicide,
Clear Light,
The Black Dice,
PIL,
Henry Cow,
Kool Moe Dee,
La Düsseldorf,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.