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 Colombia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eddi Front to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 cv313. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator 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 spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Charles Mingus,
Technova,
Stetsasonic,
Magazine,
Babytalk,
The Fuzztones,
The Sonics,
Crash Course in Science,
Kerri Chandler,
Rufus Thomas,
Arthur Verocai,
Duran Duran,
Von Mondo,
Bush Tetras,
F. McDonald,
48th St. Collective,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
Morten Harket,
The Dirtbombs,
Jandek,
The Invisible,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-102,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shoche,
Soft Cell,
The Gun Club,
JFA,
Chrome,
Sight & Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joe Smooth,
Dennis Brown,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
New York Dolls,
Grauzone,
Lakeside,
Minnie Riperton,
Fugazi,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lebanon Hanover,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arcadia,
Clear Light,
The Star Department,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Hasil Adkins,
Aswad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The United States of America,
E-Dancer,
Pantytec,
Pierre Henry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Hoover,
Brass Construction,
ABBA,
Grey Daturas,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.