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 Seychelles and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Associates to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
X-Ray Spex,
a-ha,
Camouflage,
Animal Collective,
Thee Headcoats,
Flamin' Groovies,
Supertramp,
The Slits,
James White and The Blacks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eurythmics,
Brand Nubian,
the Bar-Kays,
Rites of Spring,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Howard Jones,
Jawbox,
Yazoo,
Andrew Hill,
Vladislav Delay,
MDC,
Mo-Dettes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Schoolly D,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Roxette,
Ken Boothe,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gladiators,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Funkadelic,
Janne Schatter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The New Christs,
Josef K,
Scrapy,
Reagan Youth,
Shoche,
Fear,
The Young Rascals,
Von Mondo,
David McCallum,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Bowie,
the Slits,
Swell Maps,
Tommy Roe,
Nirvana,
Lungfish,
Arthur Verocai,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Leaves,
Brass Construction,
World's Most,
Alice Coltrane,
Fela Kuti,
Donald Byrd,
Kas Product,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.