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 Tunisia and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet 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 organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Robert Wyatt,
Reuben Wilson,
The Divine Comedy,
The Wake,
Robert Görl,
Can,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sonny Sharrock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cramps,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Magazine,
Hoover,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Make Up,
cv313,
X-101,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Janne Schatter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blackbyrds,
Susan Cadogan,
the Human League,
Avey Tare,
The Neon Judgement,
Drive Like Jehu,
Intrusion,
Magma,
Parry Music,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Animal Collective,
Scan 7,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
Groovy Waters,
Fear,
The Smoke,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Count Five,
Thompson Twins,
Connie Case,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pole,
The Walker Brothers,
Black Flag,
Japan,
Khruangbin,
The Sound,
The Moody Blues,
Aaron Thompson,
Arab on Radar,
Nick Fraelich,
Desert Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Siglo XX,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Chris Corsano,
Sixth Finger,
The J.B.'s,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.