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 Venezuela and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Symarip to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare 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 marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
The Victims,
Brass Construction,
The Moleskins,
A Certain Ratio,
the Soft Cell,
The Gories,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
Nik Kershaw,
The Angels of Light,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig,
Eden Ahbez,
Niagra,
Crooked Eye,
Animal Collective,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
World's Most,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Womack,
Young Marble Giants,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
Anakelly,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Severed Heads,
Television,
Radio Birdman,
Ossler,
Amazonics,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lalann,
Max Romeo,
The Slackers,
Erasure,
Ten City,
Japan,
Spoonie Gee,
Y Pants,
Marmalade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Cure,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Real Kids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rakim,
Yaz,
Steve Hackett,
The Remains,
Rufus Thomas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nico,
The Knickerbockers,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.