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 Uganda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Cramps to the funk 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and an arpeggiator 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 arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Radiopuhelimet,
B.T. Express,
Spoonie Gee,
The Neon Judgement,
Fluxion,
48th St. Collective,
The Black Dice,
Anakelly,
Marmalade,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultimate Spinach,
Donny Hathaway,
Bill Wells,
OOIOO,
Newcleus,
Public Image Ltd.,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lyres,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Susan Cadogan,
Matthew Halsall,
Ossler,
Charles Mingus,
the Slits,
Prince Buster,
Roxette,
Eric B and Rakim,
Supertramp,
Wire,
Archie Shepp,
The Divine Comedy,
Animal Collective,
Joey Negro,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
L. Decosne,
Massinfluence,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
ABC,
the Soft Cell,
Public Enemy,
Little Man,
Barclay James Harvest,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stiv Bators,
Albert Ayler,
Robert Görl,
Marcia Griffiths,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Das Ding,
Von Mondo,
Royal Trux,
Minutemen,
Stereo Dub,
Jeru the Damaja,
Traffic Nightmare,
Popol Vuh,
Unrelated Segments,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Blancmange,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.