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 Brazil and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Sonic Youth to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe 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 güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
The Five Americans,
The Raincoats,
Severed Heads,
MC5,
the Bar-Kays,
Arab on Radar,
Jeru the Damaja,
OOIOO,
Funkadelic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marine Girls,
Bob Dylan,
Nils Olav,
Soul II Soul,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Birthday Party,
Jesper Dahlback,
Intrusion,
Warren Ellis,
Masters at Work,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aloha Tigers,
The Red Krayola,
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Doors,
The Searchers,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Beau Brummels,
the Slits,
ABBA,
Average White Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Desert Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eric Copeland,
L. Decosne,
Davy DMX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Piero Umiliani,
Nas,
Shoche,
Swell Maps,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Easy Going,
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
Youth Brigade,
The Blues Magoos,
AZ,
Eden Ahbez,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Holt,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Charles Mingus,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.