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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Section 25 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord 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 snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quando Quango,
Isaac Hayes,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
Section 25,
Boz Scaggs,
Bill Near,
Derrick Morgan,
The Walker Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Terry Callier,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aaron Thompson,
Oneida,
The Tremeloes,
The Slits,
Deakin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Josef K,
Brass Construction,
Rod Modell,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cal Tjader,
Andrew Hill,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Hardrive,
MDC,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Moleskins,
Faraquet,
Mission of Burma,
Fear,
The Fugs,
Pantytec,
Arab on Radar,
JFA,
Gang of Four,
Scan 7,
Carl Craig,
Spandau Ballet,
Massinfluence,
Nik Kershaw,
The Trojans,
World's Most,
Theoretical Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Last Poets,
Infiniti,
kango's stein massive,
Nas,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
Ralphi Rosario,
This Heat,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.