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 Maldives and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minutemen to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar 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 organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
James White and The Blacks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Cale,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Q65,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Standells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yazoo,
Au Pairs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echospace,
Ultravox,
Rod Modell,
The Five Americans,
Los Fastidios,
Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
X-102,
Rosa Yemen,
Donny Hathaway,
Tommy Roe,
Tears for Fears,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fugs,
The Toasters,
Bobby Sherman,
Monolake,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Tremeloes,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Style,
Monks,
The Gap Band,
The Music Machine,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wire,
48th St. Collective,
Danielle Patucci,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Young Marble Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
Derrick May,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Arcadia,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Bananas,
The Names,
Aaron Thompson,
Swans,
Bill Wells,
Amon Düül,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Susan Cadogan,
U.S. Maple,
Clear Light,
Pagans,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.