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 Nigeria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rufus Thomas to the rap 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sarah Menescal,
Neu!,
Mantronix,
Maurizio,
Rufus Thomas,
Talk Talk,
The Offenders,
Babytalk,
Terry Callier,
The Durutti Column,
Hasil Adkins,
Clear Light,
Oneida,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Smoke,
Malaria!,
Blancmange,
Derrick May,
Slick Rick,
Spoonie Gee,
The Monochrome Set,
Nirvana,
The Raincoats,
This Heat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Carl Craig,
X-102,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Normal,
Prince Buster,
Amazonics,
Bob Dylan,
Chris Corsano,
John Foxx,
Stereo Dub,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Juan Atkins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rotary Connection,
Delon & Dalcan,
China Crisis,
John Holt,
Cluster,
Silicon Teens,
The Kinks,
Kaleidoscope,
Popol Vuh,
Cameo,
New Age Steppers,
The J.B.'s,
Letta Mbulu,
Slave,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Tremeloes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tomorrow,
Rites of Spring,
Cal Tjader,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.