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 Sierra Leone and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Marcia Griffiths to the dance 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba 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 snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
Sugar Minott,
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rapeman,
The Skatalites,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deepchord,
The Sound,
Charles Mingus,
Magma,
Connie Case,
Avey Tare,
X-102,
Tomorrow,
The Human League,
Circle Jerks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Inner City,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Technova,
The Blues Magoos,
Suicide,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Archie Shepp,
Mr. Review,
Terry Callier,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barclay James Harvest,
Faraquet,
Slave,
Kayak,
Lakeside,
The Mojo Men,
Pulsallama,
Yellowson,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Sheep,
The Slackers,
A Certain Ratio,
Skriet,
Henry Cow,
Theoretical Girls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deakin,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric B and Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
Derrick May,
The Flesh Eaters,
This Heat,
The Gun Club,
The Leaves,
Q65,
The Last Poets,
Skarface,
Althea and Donna,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.