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 Botswana and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 James Chance & The Contortions 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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet 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 marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dawn Penn,
Wolf Eyes,
Niagra,
June Days,
Television Personalities,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Underground Resistance,
Desert Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Sherman,
Howard Jones,
A Certain Ratio,
Toni Rubio,
The Index,
Babytalk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
Smog,
Procol Harum,
The Slackers,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Saints,
Camberwell Now,
ABC,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fatback Band,
Unwound,
Aaron Thompson,
Robert Hood,
Saccharine Trust,
Tommy Roe,
Accadde A,
Joyce Sims,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barrington Levy,
Technova,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Buzzcocks,
The Gladiators,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Michelle Simonal,
The Motions,
Yazoo,
Icehouse,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Wyatt,
Roy Ayers,
Delta 5,
Das Ding,
MC5,
Robert Görl,
Cameo,
Sound Behaviour,
Con Funk Shun,
Schoolly D,
Tim Buckley,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.