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 Argentina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise 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 Au Pairs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod 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 808 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 marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Slick Rick,
Fela Kuti,
KRS-One,
Thee Headcoats,
The Real Kids,
The Birthday Party,
June Days,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Harmonia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bush Tetras,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yaz,
Magma,
The Misunderstood,
Blancmange,
Lakeside,
The Motions,
Skarface,
48th St. Collective,
The Searchers,
Minny Pops,
Bill Wells,
Suburban Knight,
Ultra Naté,
Radio Birdman,
The Barracudas,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sight & Sound,
This Heat,
Infiniti,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dual Sessions,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
The Last Poets,
The Velvet Underground,
CMW,
Boredoms,
The Walker Brothers,
Mad Mike,
The Slits,
Symarip,
The Mummies,
Crispian St. Peters,
These Immortal Souls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harpers Bizarre,
Henry Cow,
Juan Atkins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cheater Slicks,
John Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
The Black Dice,
The Durutti Column,
John Lydon,
Mo-Dettes,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.