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 Luxembourg and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 theremin 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 Mark Hollis to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ 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 theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Sherman,
Little Man,
Crash Course in Science,
La Düsseldorf,
Don Cherry,
Depeche Mode,
Harmonia,
Dark Day,
The Names,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
Davy DMX,
Main Source,
Gong,
Throbbing Gristle,
Outsiders,
The Moody Blues,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Organ,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pole,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultra Naté,
Pet Shop Boys,
Zero Boys,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Order,
MDC,
Sun City Girls,
Stereo Dub,
Sonny Sharrock,
U.S. Maple,
Sight & Sound,
The Cure,
Fela Kuti,
Massinfluence,
Jerry's Kids,
The Kinks,
Stetsasonic,
Cluster,
The Music Machine,
Lindisfarne,
Skaos,
The Misunderstood,
Rosa Yemen,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pere Ubu,
The Red Krayola,
Ken Boothe,
Monks,
Siglo XX,
The J.B.'s,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sister Nancy,
Graham Central Station,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.