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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Spoonie Gee to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum 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 güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
The Gories,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
T.S.O.L.,
The Searchers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wolf Eyes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
The United States of America,
Todd Rundgren,
Janne Schatter,
Essential Logic,
Soft Cell,
Television,
L. Decosne,
In Retrospect,
Q and Not U,
Michelle Simonal,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Simply Red,
Rhythm & Sound,
Leonard Cohen,
Boredoms,
Can,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eve St. Jones,
Susan Cadogan,
Sandy B,
Byron Stingily,
The Cure,
Jeff Mills,
Godley & Creme,
Ponytail,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Monks,
Minnie Riperton,
Joyce Sims,
the Association,
Anthony Braxton,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Sister Nancy,
Amon Düül,
Tears for Fears,
Minor Threat,
The Mummies,
Bill Wells,
Judy Mowatt,
Unrelated Segments,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.