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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the punk 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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rosa Yemen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Unrelated Segments,
the Bar-Kays,
Vladislav Delay,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Sheep,
Howard Jones,
Niagra,
Echospace,
The Golliwogs,
U.S. Maple,
Isaac Hayes,
Laurel Aitken,
The Knickerbockers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Lynne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terrestrial Tones,
In Retrospect,
Ohio Players,
The Gap Band,
Metal Thangz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
The Smoke,
Crime,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Maleditus Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harry Pussy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sugar Minott,
Monolake,
Archie Shepp,
Shuggie Otis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Trumans Water,
Althea and Donna,
Sparks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tommy Roe,
Ituana,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pulsallama,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Electric Prunes,
Radiohead,
Popol Vuh,
the Normal,
Tom Boy,
Circle Jerks,
Japan,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.