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 El Salvador and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tom Boy to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
The Red Krayola,
Ralphi Rosario,
World's Most,
Nation of Ulysses,
Maleditus Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Cymande,
U.S. Maple,
Talk Talk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Vogues,
Swell Maps,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Con Funk Shun,
The Moody Blues,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Doors,
Boredoms,
Joy Division,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry's Kids,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Josef K,
Intrusion,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Groovy Waters,
T.S.O.L.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Organ,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Mantronix,
The Last Poets,
Mars,
Maurizio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Animal Collective,
Eve St. Jones,
Max Romeo,
Marine Girls,
Pylon,
Glenn Branca,
Scrapy,
Mo-Dettes,
Ossler,
Chris & Cosey,
Supertramp,
Malaria!,
Pantaleimon,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.