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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Spoonie Gee to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Skaos. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum 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 chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
The Moleskins,
Jawbox,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scrapy,
Index,
Mandrill,
Fluxion,
Liliput,
Can,
Tears for Fears,
The Searchers,
Malaria!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rakim,
Rites of Spring,
The United States of America,
the Germs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Divine Comedy,
Groovy Waters,
Mark Hollis,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Popol Vuh,
Pierre Henry,
Scion,
Black Bananas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
Oneida,
New Age Steppers,
The Offenders,
Surgeon,
Whodini,
Khruangbin,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric Copeland,
Dual Sessions,
Qualms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alice Coltrane,
Darondo,
Bobby Womack,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dave Gahan,
The Human League,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Style,
Grauzone,
June of 44,
Marine Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blues Magoos,
Rufus Thomas,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Zeros,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.