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 Turkmenistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobby Sherman to the punk 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe 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 oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
The Pretty Things,
Marcia Griffiths,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nas,
Franke,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Grandmaster Flash,
Magazine,
John Lydon,
The Music Machine,
Surgeon,
The Slackers,
The Fall,
Sparks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roger Hodgson,
F. McDonald,
Minny Pops,
Susan Cadogan,
Donald Byrd,
The Skatalites,
Piero Umiliani,
MC5,
Yazoo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Residents,
Johnny Clarke,
The Durutti Column,
Yellowson,
Scientists,
Pylon,
Crash Course in Science,
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
The Trojans,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
The Gories,
Letta Mbulu,
H. Thieme,
Dave Gahan,
The Offenders,
X-102,
a-ha,
Gabor Szabo,
Lou Reed,
Marc Almond,
Buzzcocks,
The Moleskins,
Circle Jerks,
Alison Limerick,
Ralphi Rosario,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Vladislav Delay,
T. Rex,
Robert Görl,
Angry Samoans,
Junior Murvin,
48th St. Collective,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.