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 Nicaragua and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
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 The Searchers to the jazz 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
The Smoke,
Bill Wells,
The Fortunes,
Joyce Sims,
Avey Tare,
Kool Moe Dee,
MC5,
The Dead C,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ultra Naté,
The Modern Lovers,
Nils Olav,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tears for Fears,
Minny Pops,
Black Moon,
Sandy B,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
F. McDonald,
These Immortal Souls,
8 Eyed Spy,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slits,
Q and Not U,
The Doors,
Joy Division,
The Durutti Column,
Desert Stars,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Joe Smooth,
the Association,
The Dave Clark Five,
Electric Prunes,
Bad Manners,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Youth Brigade,
Whodini,
Visage,
Cameo,
Pierre Henry,
Pagans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
FM Einheit,
Blossom Toes,
Ohio Players,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Real Kids,
Gichy Dan,
The Evens,
Stetsasonic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barrington Levy,
Wasted Youth,
Country Teasers,
Duran Duran,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.