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 Macedonia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the grime 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar 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 snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Todd Terry,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Cymande,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric Copeland,
Kurtis Blow,
Blancmange,
The Sound,
The Invisible,
Yellowson,
The Beau Brummels,
Gerry Rafferty,
Shoche,
Michelle Simonal,
Ponytail,
Dual Sessions,
Black Flag,
Pantytec,
Nils Olav,
Marine Girls,
Swell Maps,
Sam Rivers,
Nirvana,
FM Einheit,
Icehouse,
Henry Cow,
Public Enemy,
Al Stewart,
Faraquet,
The Durutti Column,
The Neon Judgement,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Soft Cell,
The Trojans,
Darondo,
Cluster,
The Barracudas,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Womack,
Mark Hollis,
The Angels of Light,
Deadbeat,
The Evens,
Sparks,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lightning Bolt,
James White and The Blacks,
Hoover,
New Age Steppers,
Byron Stingily,
Procol Harum,
Sixth Finger,
the Bar-Kays,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.