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 Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 Basic Channel to the techno 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro 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 synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Jeff Mills,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Wyatt,
Quando Quango,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Monks,
Dennis Brown,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bang On A Can,
Marine Girls,
Sun City Girls,
The Buckinghams,
Hot Snakes,
Public Enemy,
Wire,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Toni Rubio,
Scratch Acid,
Spoonie Gee,
Theoretical Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Clear Light,
The Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Barrington Levy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Graham Central Station,
Marshall Jefferson,
Skriet,
Aaron Thompson,
The Cowsills,
Todd Terry,
The Last Poets,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sun Ra,
Shuggie Otis,
Joy Division,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lalann,
Niagra,
Bootsy Collins,
Grauzone,
Massinfluence,
Circle Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
Ponytail,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scan 7,
Royal Trux,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Happenings,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Sherman,
The Doors,
Mars,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.