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 Kazakhstan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the jazz 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The Alarm Clocks,
These Immortal Souls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Maurizio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare,
Suicide,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The United States of America,
Mission of Burma,
The Saints,
Massinfluence,
X-102,
Rotary Connection,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
Arthur Verocai,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Organ,
Cybotron,
Archie Shepp,
This Heat,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fad Gadget,
Minor Threat,
Mark Hollis,
Yellowson,
John Coltrane,
Derrick Morgan,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eden Ahbez,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tres Demented,
Barrington Levy,
Tommy Roe,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
A Certain Ratio,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
cv313,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Black Dice,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Monochrome Set,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Das Ding,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dawn Penn,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deadbeat,
The Star Department,
Bob Dylan,
Pussy Galore,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Underground Resistance,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.