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 Iraq and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ken Boothe to the disco 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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron 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 harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Trumans Water,
Tomorrow,
Connie Case,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The J.B.'s,
Crispy Ambulance,
Parry Music,
Maurizio,
The Invisible,
Monks,
Quantec,
Newcleus,
The Motions,
Royal Trux,
Make Up,
Eli Mardock,
Wasted Youth,
Rod Modell,
Donny Hathaway,
Gichy Dan,
Camouflage,
Ultimate Spinach,
Con Funk Shun,
Prince Buster,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lungfish,
the Swans,
Rhythm & Sound,
Aural Exciters,
Freddie Wadling,
Sarah Menescal,
Max Romeo,
the Normal,
Ludus,
The Litter,
Pharoah Sanders,
Henry Cow,
Terry Callier,
The Angels of Light,
DJ Sneak,
Deepchord,
Todd Rundgren,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
ABBA,
Funky Four + One,
Moby Grape,
The Remains,
Minnie Riperton,
Alison Limerick,
Absolute Body Control,
Sugar Minott,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Christie,
Black Sheep,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Motorama,
Stockholm Monsters,
PIL,
Lindisfarne,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.