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 Australia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Severed Heads to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Agitation Free tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echospace,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter & Gordon,
The Slits,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Icehouse,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Move,
Banda Bassotti,
Roxy Music,
The Happenings,
Sandy B,
The Smoke,
Albert Ayler,
The Motions,
Country Teasers,
Clear Light,
Derrick Morgan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hardrive,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Seeds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
UT,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Basic Channel,
Pere Ubu,
PIL,
Aaron Thompson,
Davy DMX,
Carl Craig,
The Shadows of Knight,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Sherman,
John Holt,
Ronan,
Black Pus,
The Names,
Slave,
Erasure,
Iggy Pop,
The Gories,
Patti Smith,
EPMD,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Monolake,
Adolescents,
Lucky Dragons,
Boredoms,
Crooked Eye,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mission of Burma,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.