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 Indonesia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 John Cale to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum 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 harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Barbara Tucker,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Seeds,
The Red Krayola,
The Velvet Underground,
The Birthday Party,
Dave Gahan,
Royal Trux,
Lou Christie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gap Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
OOIOO,
Mr. Review,
Negative Approach,
Magazine,
Khruangbin,
Outsiders,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Lynne,
The Monochrome Set,
Make Up,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash,
48th St. Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deadbeat,
Con Funk Shun,
These Immortal Souls,
Rekid,
Idris Muhammad,
The Martian,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Count Five,
Essential Logic,
Pierre Henry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Circle Jerks,
Wolf Eyes,
The Young Rascals,
Adolescents,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Near,
New York Dolls,
Dark Day,
Erasure,
The Trojans,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cramps,
Toni Rubio,
La Düsseldorf,
ABC,
John Lydon,
Camouflage,
The Pretty Things,
Aural Exciters,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.