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 Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 guitar and an organ 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 a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rapeman,
Royal Trux,
The Fall,
MC5,
KRS-One,
the Human League,
Bush Tetras,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Graham Central Station,
Laurel Aitken,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David McCallum,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boz Scaggs,
Clear Light,
Sparks,
Jacques Brel,
Susan Cadogan,
Crime,
Mo-Dettes,
Dead Boys,
Lalann,
Faust,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Starr,
Popol Vuh,
Technova,
Buzzcocks,
Lucky Dragons,
Ohio Players,
Wings,
The J.B.'s,
Maleditus Sound,
Subhumans,
Wolf Eyes,
Sandy B,
Tears for Fears,
Flipper,
Bang On A Can,
The Fortunes,
Kenny Larkin,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Ultravox,
Cameo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rufus Thomas,
Thee Headcoats,
Porter Ricks,
The Stooges,
Lou Christie,
the Association,
Television,
Echospace,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cymande,
Rites of Spring,
Idris Muhammad,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.