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 Nepal and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Roy Ayers to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum 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 rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lyres,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Supertramp,
Pantytec,
David Axelrod,
The New Christs,
Model 500,
Thee Headcoats,
Mantronix,
the Fania All-Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
June of 44,
Dark Day,
Fluxion,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Marmalade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Matthew Bourne,
Brothers Johnson,
Minor Threat,
Arthur Verocai,
Con Funk Shun,
the Sonics,
the Slits,
The Black Dice,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Electric Prunes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Albert Ayler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faraquet,
The Saints,
Stetsasonic,
Eden Ahbez,
Derrick May,
Minutemen,
DJ Sneak,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Kerri Chandler,
The Sound,
The Leaves,
Can,
Arab on Radar,
The Cure,
Curtis Mayfield,
Franke,
New Order,
Buzzcocks,
Roger Hodgson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Invisible,
The Skatalites,
Ossler,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.