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 Mali and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fela Kuti to the electroclash 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All Ultimate Spinach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare 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 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Sonics,
Ponytail,
Technova,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scan 7,
The Black Dice,
The Five Americans,
the Bar-Kays,
Mars,
The Shadows of Knight,
UT,
X-Ray Spex,
Funky Four + One,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flipper,
Kaleidoscope,
Quantec,
Freddie Wadling,
The Modern Lovers,
Black Pus,
OOIOO,
Pharoah Sanders,
Severed Heads,
Outsiders,
K-Klass,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liliput,
Magazine,
Kayak,
June of 44,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobby Sherman,
Danielle Patucci,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Fall,
Nirvana,
Albert Ayler,
Eli Mardock,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oneida,
L. Decosne,
Camouflage,
Henry Cow,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Red Krayola,
Big Daddy Kane,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Moon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Agent Orange,
Lou Christie,
Barrington Levy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.