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 Belarus and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Frankie Knuckles to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare 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 sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Youth Brigade,
Fat Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Sarah Menescal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Five Americans,
Television Personalities,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Fugs,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Standells,
Robert Hood,
The Divine Comedy,
Zero Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Amazonics,
Hardrive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Birthday Party,
Robert Wyatt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fluxion,
Subhumans,
Lou Christie,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Modern Lovers,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
Fear,
In Retrospect,
Maurizio,
Eden Ahbez,
Harry Pussy,
48th St. Collective,
Crooked Eye,
The Names,
The Index,
David Bowie,
Brand Nubian,
The Stooges,
Surgeon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Television,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cheater Slicks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Mojo Men,
The Grass Roots,
Roy Ayers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bad Manners,
The Walker Brothers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
One Last Wish,
Erasure,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Saccharine Trust,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.