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 Libya and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Pere Ubu to the grime 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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator 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 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
The Fortunes,
Alice Coltrane,
Angry Samoans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sound Behaviour,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Lynne,
Roy Ayers,
the Bar-Kays,
T. Rex,
Can,
Mandrill,
Black Sheep,
the Fania All-Stars,
Reagan Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Albert Ayler,
Harry Pussy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ohio Players,
DJ Sneak,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Green,
Mo-Dettes,
Subhumans,
Davy DMX,
Tres Demented,
Dave Gahan,
Skaos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ash Ra Tempel,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sparks,
Massinfluence,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Cowsills,
Goldenarms,
Spoonie Gee,
Rapeman,
Surgeon,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare,
The Fugs,
Sun City Girls,
The Wake,
Nick Fraelich,
The Beau Brummels,
Arab on Radar,
Ponytail,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rhythm & Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crooked Eye,
Quadrant,
Make Up,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Zero Boys,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.