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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Marcia Griffiths to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
The Techniques,
The Saints,
Tommy Roe,
Desert Stars,
Gang Gang Dance,
Aural Exciters,
The Remains,
The Fuzztones,
Parry Music,
Pet Shop Boys,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Cell,
ABC,
The Kinks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cal Tjader,
Negative Approach,
10cc,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
T. Rex,
Ronnie Foster,
The Residents,
Wally Richardson,
Deadbeat,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
Crooked Eye,
New York Dolls,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sound Behaviour,
Gil Scott Heron,
Buzzcocks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Brick,
the Germs,
Loose Ends,
Make Up,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Patti Smith,
Monks,
X-Ray Spex,
Supertramp,
FM Einheit,
Mr. Review,
DJ Style,
Shoche,
Moss Icon,
Faust,
Roy Ayers,
Eve St. Jones,
The Black Dice,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
CMW,
Boredoms,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.