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 Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cure to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flash Fearless,
Marmalade,
Marvin Gaye,
the Association,
Sex Pistols,
Boz Scaggs,
Andrew Hill,
Toni Rubio,
Barbara Tucker,
Ludus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Stooges,
Procol Harum,
the Bar-Kays,
Terry Callier,
Grey Daturas,
Harmonia,
The Fall,
Slave,
Althea and Donna,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
David McCallum,
Sam Rivers,
Monolake,
Patti Smith,
OOIOO,
Pussy Galore,
Warsaw,
Saccharine Trust,
Simply Red,
World's Most,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms,
FM Einheit,
the Soft Cell,
Fluxion,
Swell Maps,
Cecil Taylor,
Stiv Bators,
A Certain Ratio,
Parry Music,
Audionom,
The Litter,
The Busters,
Soulsonic Force,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Janne Schatter,
Robert Wyatt,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Chris & Cosey,
Theoretical Girls,
The Angels of Light,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Almond,
Yellowson,
Eli Mardock,
Ohio Players,
Letta Mbulu,
Lebanon Hanover,
June of 44,
Danielle Patucci,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.