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 Botswana and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a spring reverb 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 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Invisible,
Eli Mardock,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
The American Breed,
Sun Ra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Thee Headcoats,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eden Ahbez,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cramps,
The Vogues,
A Certain Ratio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
Terry Callier,
Pierre Henry,
Bronski Beat,
The Trojans,
These Immortal Souls,
Gong,
Letta Mbulu,
Spoonie Gee,
Arthur Verocai,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skriet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marmalade,
Bush Tetras,
Nils Olav,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Angels of Light,
Maurizio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Germs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ituana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Tremeloes,
The Slackers,
10cc,
Duran Duran,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Niagra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
EPMD,
Marc Almond,
Barry Ungar,
Wasted Youth,
Fat Boys,
The Cure,
The Grass Roots,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.