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 Andorra and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Sugar Minott,
Danielle Patucci,
Roxette,
Terrestrial Tones,
Erasure,
Make Up,
Pole,
The Saints,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
Neil Young,
Derrick May,
Half Japanese,
The Selecter,
David Bowie,
Hasil Adkins,
Anakelly,
Fugazi,
Quadrant,
Agitation Free,
The Litter,
Marine Girls,
Joyce Sims,
the Fania All-Stars,
KRS-One,
Pere Ubu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantaleimon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Junior Murvin,
Tomorrow,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
Amazonics,
Ralphi Rosario,
Wally Richardson,
Faraquet,
Harmonia,
Basic Channel,
Yusef Lateef,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sound,
The Residents,
Chris Corsano,
Interpol,
Funky Four + One,
Johnny Clarke,
Parry Music,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Model 500,
Fear,
Sällskapet,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul II Soul,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Todd Rundgren,
Slave,
Yazoo,
The Mummies,
Lyres,
Panda Bear,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.