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 St Lucia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Tim Buckley to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier 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 crunk 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 a rhodes and a linndrum 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 guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
Archie Shepp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nik Kershaw,
Buzzcocks,
Grey Daturas,
Kayak,
Rakim,
Dual Sessions,
Khruangbin,
Pussy Galore,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ultra Naté,
Black Moon,
Darondo,
Bill Near,
Erykah Badu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marine Girls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Panda Bear,
Scratch Acid,
Rapeman,
E-Dancer,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Depeche Mode,
Ornette Coleman,
Fatback Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Q and Not U,
John Cale,
The United States of America,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Martian,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacques Brel,
Godley & Creme,
John Lydon,
The Saints,
Accadde A,
Au Pairs,
H. Thieme,
Lalann,
Ossler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ludus,
Gang Green,
Sällskapet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Intrusion,
Jeff Lynne,
Henry Cow,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ten City,
Harry Pussy,
Metal Thangz,
Inner City,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.