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 India and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Magma 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro 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 harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Angry Samoans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Smoke,
The Slackers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blossom Toes,
Clear Light,
Index,
Althea and Donna,
Erasure,
The Gap Band,
R.M.O.,
Audionom,
Harpers Bizarre,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Selecter,
Panda Bear,
The J.B.'s,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kayak,
Vladislav Delay,
Crime,
Janne Schatter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
B.T. Express,
Malaria!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Michelle Simonal,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sight & Sound,
Accadde A,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moody Blues,
the Soft Cell,
The Evens,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Little Man,
World's Most,
MDC,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sound Behaviour,
The Velvet Underground,
China Crisis,
Sällskapet,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gun Club,
Wolf Eyes,
Maurizio,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lou Christie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mojo Men,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.