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 Hungary and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gang of Four to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a güiro 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 marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
MDC,
Hardrive,
Camouflage,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sam Rivers,
Sight & Sound,
ABBA,
Black Pus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brass Construction,
48th St. Collective,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
The Tremeloes,
The Count Five,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Underground Resistance,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Smog,
Kayak,
Cameo,
Massinfluence,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Hood,
the Germs,
Barry Ungar,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
Rapeman,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Fall,
Warsaw,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Porter Ricks,
Rites of Spring,
Qualms,
The Stooges,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moby Grape,
Lower 48,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Monochrome Set,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
Minutemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Ossler,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.