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 Afghanistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Vladislav Delay to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes 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 mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Divine Comedy,
China Crisis,
Roxy Music,
The Velvet Underground,
Accadde A,
Joe Finger,
Cluster,
Josef K,
The Litter,
Television Personalities,
Anakelly,
Smog,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camberwell Now,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Motorama,
Derrick May,
Heaven 17,
Nas,
Derrick Morgan,
The Evens,
Neil Young,
Blossom Toes,
The Monks,
Lakeside,
Stockholm Monsters,
Desert Stars,
Marc Almond,
B.T. Express,
U.S. Maple,
Erykah Badu,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
Groovy Waters,
Fat Boys,
Robert Hood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marmalade,
Yaz,
Godley & Creme,
Negative Approach,
Ten City,
Max Romeo,
Black Pus,
The Birthday Party,
Wolf Eyes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tomorrow,
Sugar Minott,
Jacob Miller,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Carl Craig,
Hardrive,
ABBA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nik Kershaw,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.