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 Cambodia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Electric Prunes to the grunge 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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ 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 clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The American Breed,
Nico,
the Fania All-Stars,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Slackers,
Joy Division,
Ultravox,
X-Ray Spex,
Cheater Slicks,
Roxy Music,
Roxette,
Joe Finger,
The Evens,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dave Gahan,
Dark Day,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lungfish,
Minnie Riperton,
Eve St. Jones,
Nik Kershaw,
the Slits,
Scion,
Girls At Our Best!,
Severed Heads,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Charles Mingus,
Boredoms,
Grandmaster Flash,
Amazonics,
The Standells,
Cecil Taylor,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sound Behaviour,
Niagra,
Hot Snakes,
Excepter,
Tubeway Army,
Surgeon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Shoche,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
Magazine,
Underground Resistance,
Bang On A Can,
The Leaves,
Warsaw,
Wings,
Rosa Yemen,
Bronski Beat,
Brick,
Deakin,
Easy Going,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Pus,
Silicon Teens,
Man Eating Sloth,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.