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 Sudan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 kango's stein massive to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb 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 theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eric Dolphy,
Rufus Thomas,
The Cowsills,
Toni Rubio,
The Electric Prunes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Talk Talk,
Magma,
The Smoke,
Cluster,
Scott Walker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Don Cherry,
Inner City,
Josef K,
Radio Birdman,
T.S.O.L.,
The Evens,
Robert Hood,
Andrew Hill,
Neil Young,
Oneida,
Blossom Toes,
Unwound,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
June of 44,
Intrusion,
Make Up,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DNA,
The Trojans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Last Poets,
ABC,
Tears for Fears,
Pet Shop Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stereo Dub,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Todd Rundgren,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Audionom,
10cc,
B.T. Express,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camberwell Now,
Blancmange,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dark Day,
Lyres,
The Smiths,
Zapp,
Black Moon,
X-101,
Masters at Work,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rites of Spring,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.