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 Russia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Neu! to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Carl Craig,
The Toasters,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
Vladislav Delay,
The Remains,
Prince Buster,
DNA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gories,
Harry Pussy,
Royal Trux,
Monks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Depeche Mode,
The Sonics,
Dawn Penn,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yellowson,
David McCallum,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Y Pants,
Donald Byrd,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Steve Hackett,
ABC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Don Cherry,
Lakeside,
Massinfluence,
Little Man,
Moss Icon,
Yaz,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bootsy Collins,
Danielle Patucci,
Bad Manners,
Max Romeo,
The Names,
Byron Stingily,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nick Fraelich,
the Germs,
Japan,
Kerri Chandler,
Godley & Creme,
Groovy Waters,
Piero Umiliani,
Rotary Connection,
Moby Grape,
the Bar-Kays,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dark Day,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.