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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 Surgeon to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe 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 spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Rakim,
Royal Trux,
Scan 7,
Aaron Thompson,
The Human League,
Urselle,
Crash Course in Science,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bush Tetras,
Jeff Lynne,
The Music Machine,
Jacques Brel,
The Toasters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
New York Dolls,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Bourne,
The Invisible,
K-Klass,
Groovy Waters,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Peter and Kerry,
Sparks,
Roxette,
Janne Schatter,
La Düsseldorf,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Derrick May,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Sheep,
The Fortunes,
Laurel Aitken,
Audionom,
Simply Red,
Maurizio,
Thompson Twins,
Newcleus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Donny Hathaway,
Animal Collective,
Section 25,
Bluetip,
Curtis Mayfield,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stiv Bators,
Traffic Nightmare,
X-101,
The Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Terry,
The Five Americans,
Joe Finger,
Qualms,
Sun Ra,
Goldenarms,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.