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 Grenada and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 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 These Immortal Souls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Accadde A,
Graham Central Station,
Ossler,
The Stooges,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yazoo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grey Daturas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Khruangbin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
48th St. Collective,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gichy Dan,
Skriet,
The Moody Blues,
In Retrospect,
Goldenarms,
Soul II Soul,
Letta Mbulu,
The Selecter,
Marshall Jefferson,
DJ Sneak,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Saints,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Carl Craig,
Iggy Pop,
Connie Case,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jacob Miller,
Intrusion,
Patti Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
Kayak,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rotary Connection,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cluster,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Flesh Eaters,
Procol Harum,
Thee Headcoats,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Sound Behaviour,
T.S.O.L.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pantaleimon,
The Victims,
a-ha,
Silicon Teens,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minutemen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.