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 Austria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Glenn Branca to the grunge 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb 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 sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
T. Rex,
Susan Cadogan,
Fat Boys,
Prince Buster,
The Alarm Clocks,
Godley & Creme,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Urselle,
Tres Demented,
Deadbeat,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Altered Images,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wings,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rotary Connection,
Alison Limerick,
Suicide,
Outsiders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Icehouse,
PIL,
Nils Olav,
Bootsy Collins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fela Kuti,
The Count Five,
Boogie Down Productions,
Das Ding,
Grandmaster Flash,
Supertramp,
Absolute Body Control,
Juan Atkins,
Slick Rick,
Charles Mingus,
Yellowson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Freddie Wadling,
The Walker Brothers,
Deepchord,
Man Parrish,
Visage,
The Sonics,
Quadrant,
Ponytail,
Sam Rivers,
Wolf Eyes,
The Dirtbombs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pierre Henry,
The Vogues,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Negative Approach,
Minor Threat,
Moby Grape,
Echospace,
Patti Smith,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.