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 Dominican Republic and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Panda Bear to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin 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 marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Carl Craig,
Scion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dawn Penn,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
Duran Duran,
Depeche Mode,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Alton Ellis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brass Construction,
Sonic Youth,
The Index,
Juan Atkins,
Howard Jones,
The Human League,
Fugazi,
Talk Talk,
Colin Newman,
Eric Dolphy,
Nico,
Jerry's Kids,
The Beau Brummels,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dead Boys,
The Slackers,
Porter Ricks,
Warsaw,
Hardrive,
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
Lyres,
Tubeway Army,
Rekid,
Eli Mardock,
Pantytec,
Second Layer,
Derrick May,
Rapeman,
Graham Central Station,
Alison Limerick,
Roxette,
DJ Sneak,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wings,
Yazoo,
Lungfish,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Procol Harum,
Masters at Work,
June of 44,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minor Threat,
Groovy Waters,
The Litter,
Excepter,
Zero Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.