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 Afghanistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Last Poets to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet 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 linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Whodini,
London Community Gospel Choir,
OOIOO,
Marine Girls,
The Moody Blues,
The Residents,
Toni Rubio,
Brothers Johnson,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Khruangbin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Mummies,
Angry Samoans,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
The Martian,
Lou Christie,
Moby Grape,
The Fortunes,
Camouflage,
John Lydon,
Boz Scaggs,
Cameo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smiths,
FM Einheit,
Banda Bassotti,
Minor Threat,
Bronski Beat,
Soft Cell,
Gong,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lyres,
10cc,
Cymande,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nils Olav,
Lightning Bolt,
Motorama,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Görl,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Womack,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultimate Spinach,
Amon Düül II,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Henry Cow,
Sandy B,
Gang Starr,
Buzzcocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.