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 Guinea and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Stereo Dub to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 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?
Excepter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mantronix,
Flipper,
OOIOO,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gladiators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Modern Lovers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Index,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amazonics,
Parry Music,
Max Romeo,
Howard Jones,
The Neon Judgement,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Althea and Donna,
The Fire Engines,
Q and Not U,
Charles Mingus,
DJ Sneak,
The Velvet Underground,
Silicon Teens,
Josef K,
Anthony Braxton,
The Invisible,
Moby Grape,
Radiohead,
Junior Murvin,
Cal Tjader,
ABC,
Dennis Brown,
Trumans Water,
Ken Boothe,
Scientists,
The Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
cv313,
World's Most,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
Sandy B,
Tom Boy,
Depeche Mode,
Pussy Galore,
The Seeds,
Nas,
Faraquet,
CMW,
Susan Cadogan,
Isaac Hayes,
Urselle,
Letta Mbulu,
R.M.O.,
Ponytail,
Newcleus,
Qualms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.