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 Australia and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ossler to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a 808 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 a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Slick Rick,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Evens,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Names,
The Monochrome Set,
Maurizio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Lydon,
Mantronix,
Michelle Simonal,
Gil Scott Heron,
K-Klass,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jawbox,
Gang Gang Dance,
DJ Sneak,
Arthur Verocai,
The Dave Clark Five,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Shoche,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Niagra,
Drexciya,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Sandy B,
Rekid,
The Mummies,
Bill Near,
Arab on Radar,
Eddi Front,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ossler,
The Victims,
Mandrill,
Bad Manners,
Roy Ayers,
Neu!,
Harmonia,
Main Source,
Juan Atkins,
The Fugs,
Fela Kuti,
The Gladiators,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hot Snakes,
Lalann,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Negative Approach,
The Index,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang Green,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Holt,
Crash Course in Science,
Scan 7,
Gang Starr,
Public Image Ltd.,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.