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 Lebanon and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Residents to the grunge 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba 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 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
The Young Rascals,
Toni Rubio,
The Raincoats,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crooked Eye,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
L. Decosne,
Black Sheep,
The Five Americans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James White and The Blacks,
The Smiths,
Blossom Toes,
Thompson Twins,
Judy Mowatt,
the Swans,
Ohio Players,
Urselle,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joensuu 1685,
The Doors,
Swell Maps,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bob Dylan,
Danielle Patucci,
The Pop Group,
The Happenings,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Severed Heads,
Parry Music,
Stereo Dub,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Banda Bassotti,
John Holt,
Desert Stars,
Scion,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun Ra,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Germs,
Camouflage,
Dawn Penn,
Lalann,
The Dirtbombs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vladislav Delay,
The Techniques,
AZ,
Buzzcocks,
Echospace,
Eden Ahbez,
Andrew Hill,
Barclay James Harvest,
Television Personalities,
The Stooges,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.