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 Laos and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Hot Snakes to the grunge 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba 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 clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Joey Negro,
Pussy Galore,
Barrington Levy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nirvana,
Quantec,
MC5,
The Sound,
B.T. Express,
UT,
The Birthday Party,
Eve St. Jones,
Deakin,
New York Dolls,
Model 500,
The Detroit Cobras,
Maurizio,
Bad Manners,
Lalann,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
U.S. Maple,
Lungfish,
Camberwell Now,
Joyce Sims,
Pylon,
Duran Duran,
Anthony Braxton,
Marine Girls,
DNA,
The Offenders,
Lightning Bolt,
Das Ding,
Aswad,
Radiohead,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tres Demented,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Womack,
Brothers Johnson,
Harmonia,
Derrick May,
Magma,
The Human League,
New Order,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Faraquet,
LL Cool J,
David McCallum,
Eddi Front,
The Real Kids,
Robert Görl,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pierre Henry,
Marc Almond,
48th St. Collective,
Rapeman,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Pus,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.