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 Switzerland and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Swans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum 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 theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Al Stewart,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Basic Channel,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mojo Men,
Cameo,
Slick Rick,
Bronski Beat,
Sun Ra,
Q and Not U,
Kurtis Blow,
The Slackers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Music Machine,
Oneida,
The Red Krayola,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Trojans,
The Sound,
Thompson Twins,
Simply Red,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fela Kuti,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Isaac Hayes,
Magazine,
The Associates,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Whodini,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Mills,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Darondo,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mo-Dettes,
Funky Four + One,
Duran Duran,
Ultravox,
Technova,
The New Christs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Piero Umiliani,
Black Sheep,
Derrick Morgan,
The Wake,
The Gladiators,
Rosa Yemen,
10cc,
Robert Görl,
Dennis Brown,
Spoonie Gee,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Prince Buster,
Ten City,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.