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 Poland and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Malaria! to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes 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 snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
John Coltrane,
the Swans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gladiators,
The J.B.'s,
Smog,
Shoche,
Lower 48,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Trojans,
Bang On A Can,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sonic Youth,
Reuben Wilson,
Quantec,
Reagan Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ronan,
Porter Ricks,
H. Thieme,
Von Mondo,
the Sonics,
Neu!,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Theoretical Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Andrew Hill,
Radio Birdman,
Warsaw,
The Slits,
LL Cool J,
Eli Mardock,
Lindisfarne,
Grauzone,
Jandek,
Warren Ellis,
Trumans Water,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Godley & Creme,
Chris Corsano,
Bronski Beat,
The Index,
Stockholm Monsters,
Flash Fearless,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
KRS-One,
Boredoms,
The Busters,
The Invisible,
Gang of Four,
Camberwell Now,
The Vogues,
Blossom Toes,
The Black Dice,
Unwound,
Bobby Byrd,
Parry Music,
Nas,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.