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 Pakistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 the Fania All-Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro 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 organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiohead,
Kevin Saunderson,
Delta 5,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mad Mike,
Marvin Gaye,
Gong,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Zapp,
ABBA,
Deepchord,
Sun Ra,
The Real Kids,
New Order,
Alison Limerick,
8 Eyed Spy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scan 7,
Buzzcocks,
Byron Stingily,
Donald Byrd,
Black Pus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Althea and Donna,
Sparks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hot Snakes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Junior Murvin,
The Barracudas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
UT,
The Mummies,
Ituana,
Icehouse,
Derrick Morgan,
Youth Brigade,
The Invisible,
Lower 48,
Half Japanese,
The Beau Brummels,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Angels of Light,
The Litter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Human League,
Schoolly D,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bob Dylan,
The New Christs,
Faraquet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Radiopuhelimet,
Swans,
Judy Mowatt,
Banda Bassotti,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.