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 Zambia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Public Enemy 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro 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 organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Flash Fearless,
Lindisfarne,
The American Breed,
Radiohead,
These Immortal Souls,
Massinfluence,
Popol Vuh,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Archie Shepp,
Sight & Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deadbeat,
Ituana,
cv313,
Pylon,
Donny Hathaway,
Electric Prunes,
The Monochrome Set,
The Skatalites,
The Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Chris Corsano,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Quando Quango,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aloha Tigers,
The Angels of Light,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
Urselle,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Faust,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Angry Samoans,
The Leaves,
Joensuu 1685,
Lee Hazlewood,
Matthew Bourne,
L. Decosne,
The Red Krayola,
Whodini,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Slackers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stiv Bators,
Eddi Front,
Agent Orange,
The Toasters,
Hot Snakes,
Skriet,
Man Parrish,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
The Misunderstood,
The Selecter,
kango's stein massive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.