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 Algeria and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Scratch Acid 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ 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 theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Bootsy Collins,
Motorama,
Outsiders,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marine Girls,
Morten Harket,
Chrome,
Iggy Pop,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lalann,
Crispy Ambulance,
Neu!,
T. Rex,
X-Ray Spex,
Buzzcocks,
Minutemen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Con Funk Shun,
D'Angelo,
Yaz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boz Scaggs,
Organ,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rekid,
Das Ding,
Smog,
John Foxx,
Y Pants,
Wings,
La Düsseldorf,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
Inner City,
Warsaw,
Guru Guru,
Lower 48,
R.M.O.,
The Last Poets,
Make Up,
Minny Pops,
The Birthday Party,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric Dolphy,
Scratch Acid,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wolf Eyes,
F. McDonald,
Kerrie Biddell,
UT,
ABBA,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Gladiators,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
AZ,
The Black Dice,
Rites of Spring,
Al Stewart,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.