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 Comoros and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
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 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 Janne Schatter to the dance 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes 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 spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Mission of Burma,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Busters,
Judy Mowatt,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Marshall Jefferson,
David Bowie,
Grauzone,
Parry Music,
Scrapy,
Dead Boys,
Neu!,
Warsaw,
The Vogues,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Saints,
Heaven 17,
The Victims,
The Walker Brothers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Mojo Men,
Robert Hood,
Erasure,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Moon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-Ray Spex,
Bronski Beat,
Spandau Ballet,
Sällskapet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Skaos,
Smog,
Suburban Knight,
Thompson Twins,
Lindisfarne,
The Durutti Column,
Marmalade,
Al Stewart,
Hashim,
Fela Kuti,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sound Behaviour,
Alton Ellis,
Aaron Thompson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tomorrow,
Johnny Osbourne,
Porter Ricks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dennis Brown,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cal Tjader,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lower 48,
Nils Olav,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gong,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
June Days,
Cymande,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.