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 Turkmenistan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron 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 harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Yusef Lateef,
Echospace,
the Germs,
Excepter,
Howard Jones,
Iggy Pop,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bad Manners,
Rosa Yemen,
Morten Harket,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Toasters,
The Slits,
The Wake,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Searchers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unwound,
Johnny Clarke,
Aswad,
Animal Collective,
Black Pus,
Depeche Mode,
Slave,
Dark Day,
Wasted Youth,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Byrd,
La Düsseldorf,
The Grass Roots,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lyres,
The Last Poets,
The Divine Comedy,
Banda Bassotti,
Susan Cadogan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eurythmics,
Babytalk,
Bill Near,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
cv313,
Qualms,
Lindisfarne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arcadia,
X-Ray Spex,
Mo-Dettes,
the Normal,
Rod Modell,
Saccharine Trust,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sixth Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Electric Prunes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.