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 Libya and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar 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 The Real Kids to the dance 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Zero Boys,
ABC,
Skriet,
Bang On A Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scratch Acid,
Pantaleimon,
The Grass Roots,
Tom Boy,
John Cale,
Cluster,
Joey Negro,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Man Parrish,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Residents,
Gang Green,
Television,
Soft Cell,
John Lydon,
the Human League,
Silicon Teens,
Scientists,
Hoover,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soulsonic Force,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Velvet Underground,
The Techniques,
Kas Product,
Letta Mbulu,
Buzzcocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Pus,
The Buckinghams,
Scott Walker,
Eve St. Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Das Ding,
kango's stein massive,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bad Manners,
Deakin,
Pussy Galore,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alphaville,
David McCallum,
10cc,
Reagan Youth,
The Motions,
KRS-One,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
PIL,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
E-Dancer,
Harmonia,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.