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 Malawi and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Mars to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar 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 linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Cecil Taylor,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bill Wells,
D'Angelo,
Marcia Griffiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Glenn Branca,
Stiv Bators,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Leaves,
ABBA,
Qualms,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Techniques,
Shuggie Otis,
Symarip,
Half Japanese,
Eli Mardock,
Skaos,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ronnie Foster,
Todd Terry,
Henry Cow,
Nirvana,
Ken Boothe,
Thee Headcoats,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pierre Henry,
Fluxion,
Sixth Finger,
Guru Guru,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric Dolphy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeff Lynne,
The Barracudas,
kango's stein massive,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Brick,
James White and The Blacks,
Reagan Youth,
Rotary Connection,
Kenny Larkin,
Tubeway Army,
Aswad,
Skriet,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Brass Construction,
Neu!,
Jawbox,
Eve St. Jones,
Junior Murvin,
Laurel Aitken,
The Kinks,
the Swans,
Intrusion,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.