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 Guinea and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Albert Ayler to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Aloha Tigers,
Todd Terry,
Depeche Mode,
Pantaleimon,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Electric Prunes,
Steve Hackett,
Eric B and Rakim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mr. Review,
Susan Cadogan,
Tommy Roe,
Oneida,
The United States of America,
Boz Scaggs,
the Germs,
Pole,
Patti Smith,
Lalann,
Magazine,
Crispian St. Peters,
Glenn Branca,
Roy Ayers,
Reagan Youth,
KRS-One,
Animal Collective,
Ronnie Foster,
48th St. Collective,
Subhumans,
The Count Five,
Sonic Youth,
The Modern Lovers,
Janne Schatter,
Organ,
Soft Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Archie Shepp,
Dennis Brown,
Erasure,
MDC,
The Dirtbombs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Metal Thangz,
The Cowsills,
Letta Mbulu,
Groovy Waters,
Bluetip,
FM Einheit,
Agent Orange,
Talk Talk,
Pulsallama,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Offenders,
Howard Jones,
Zapp,
The Blackbyrds,
Aaron Thompson,
Jacques Brel,
Harry Pussy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Banda Bassotti,
Brothers Johnson,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.