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 Tajikistan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba 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 harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Vogues,
Cheater Slicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultravox,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pet Shop Boys,
Underground Resistance,
Peter and Kerry,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sex Pistols,
Moby Grape,
Radio Birdman,
Clear Light,
Yaz,
Sixth Finger,
Harry Pussy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wolf Eyes,
Kayak,
Reagan Youth,
Black Moon,
Spandau Ballet,
Pagans,
Rites of Spring,
Ken Boothe,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Real Kids,
the Germs,
New Age Steppers,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
Bad Manners,
Slave,
Robert Görl,
The Gladiators,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heaven 17,
Ludus,
The Seeds,
Pole,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Warsaw,
Drexciya,
Excepter,
New York Dolls,
Joensuu 1685,
Jawbox,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Royal Trux,
The Stooges,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.