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 Ivory Coast and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Jeff Mills to the funk 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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a 808 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 organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
The Knickerbockers,
DJ Sneak,
Jacob Miller,
The Kinks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Arcadia,
The Techniques,
Mo-Dettes,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Babytalk,
Derrick Morgan,
Derrick May,
The Cramps,
Rakim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultravox,
Fugazi,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
Electric Prunes,
Monolake,
Dead Boys,
The Motions,
Vladislav Delay,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Pretty Things,
Marc Almond,
Country Teasers,
Rosa Yemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Whodini,
John Coltrane,
Saccharine Trust,
Cecil Taylor,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Make Up,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül,
Rotary Connection,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Qualms,
The Moleskins,
Amazonics,
B.T. Express,
New York Dolls,
Ohio Players,
Crash Course in Science,
The Saints,
Masters at Work,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.