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 Sierra Leone and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Jacob Miller to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Donny Hathaway,
Roxy Music,
Mo-Dettes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Heaven 17,
Altered Images,
Babytalk,
Wasted Youth,
Deakin,
Tears for Fears,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Monolake,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cheater Slicks,
Rites of Spring,
John Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
Swell Maps,
Amazonics,
Lyres,
Boredoms,
Qualms,
D'Angelo,
Barrington Levy,
Hoover,
Technova,
Excepter,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dave Gahan,
Wings,
Derrick May,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
Pharoah Sanders,
Infiniti,
Chris Corsano,
Kerrie Biddell,
Con Funk Shun,
Throbbing Gristle,
Freddie Wadling,
Desert Stars,
Sister Nancy,
Fatback Band,
Pierre Henry,
Max Romeo,
Moby Grape,
The Black Dice,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scott Walker,
Whodini,
Anakelly,
Aaron Thompson,
Marc Almond,
Accadde A,
Morten Harket,
Hasil Adkins,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.