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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nico to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a harpsichord 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 mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quando Quango,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soulsonic Force,
B.T. Express,
Maurizio,
Fugazi,
Toni Rubio,
Black Bananas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gichy Dan,
Jacob Miller,
The Trojans,
Agent Orange,
Isaac Hayes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fear,
Jawbox,
The Five Americans,
Suburban Knight,
Hardrive,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Scan 7,
Nirvana,
The Litter,
JFA,
Kevin Saunderson,
Metal Thangz,
Scott Walker,
The New Christs,
Bang On A Can,
Chris Corsano,
Subhumans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Green,
Boredoms,
The Fall,
MC5,
The Leaves,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Light Orchestra,
cv313,
X-102,
The Gun Club,
Mad Mike,
The Invisible,
KRS-One,
Anthony Braxton,
Tres Demented,
The Mojo Men,
Smog,
Can,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mummies,
Funky Four + One,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.