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 Spain and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the rock 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Darondo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gichy Dan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tom Boy,
The Techniques,
Pierre Henry,
Spoonie Gee,
The Evens,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
Chris Corsano,
Blancmange,
Godley & Creme,
Delta 5,
JFA,
Ornette Coleman,
Bauhaus,
The Associates,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Arcadia,
Juan Atkins,
DNA,
David McCallum,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Janne Schatter,
Gang Green,
Minutemen,
Tubeway Army,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Panda Bear,
Todd Terry,
Robert Hood,
Kayak,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cure,
Section 25,
Bang On A Can,
Nas,
The Litter,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Cramps,
Albert Ayler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flipper,
Pantaleimon,
Roxette,
Jacques Brel,
Marvin Gaye,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
L. Decosne,
Surgeon,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
Buzzcocks,
Iggy Pop,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.