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 Nauru and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet 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 Barbara Tucker to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare 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 güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
The Wake,
A Certain Ratio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nik Kershaw,
F. McDonald,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tubeway Army,
Mark Hollis,
John Lydon,
Skriet,
Amon Düül,
Liliput,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lakeside,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bill Near,
Groovy Waters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Darondo,
Brick,
The Doors,
Bad Manners,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Pop Group,
Suicide,
David Bowie,
Black Bananas,
Fatback Band,
Sister Nancy,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
Stetsasonic,
The Litter,
Symarip,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Normal,
Scratch Acid,
R.M.O.,
The Moody Blues,
The Fortunes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minor Threat,
Ice-T,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
Agent Orange,
KRS-One,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Howard Jones,
Subhumans,
Simply Red,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.