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 Bhutan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mandrill to the crunk 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer 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 marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Association,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Electric Prunes,
John Foxx,
Tim Buckley,
X-102,
Jacques Brel,
The Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Divine Comedy,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
The Cramps,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gap Band,
The Pop Group,
Eurythmics,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Quadrant,
Ronan,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Walker Brothers,
Infiniti,
Duran Duran,
Prince Buster,
Rufus Thomas,
Eric Dolphy,
The Standells,
Piero Umiliani,
DNA,
The Mummies,
Barclay James Harvest,
Terry Callier,
Warren Ellis,
The Black Dice,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pantytec,
Drexciya,
Crispy Ambulance,
F. McDonald,
Sun Ra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Grass Roots,
Eli Mardock,
cv313,
Lou Christie,
The United States of America,
The Kinks,
The Birthday Party,
Maurizio,
Ornette Coleman,
JFA,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Smog,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.