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 Ethiopia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Carl Craig to the punk 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer 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 chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Minnie Riperton,
Ornette Coleman,
PIL,
The Fuzztones,
Magma,
Eurythmics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ten City,
Symarip,
Carl Craig,
Glenn Branca,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eric Copeland,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Drive Like Jehu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Johnny Osbourne,
B.T. Express,
Deadbeat,
Talk Talk,
The Grass Roots,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Qualms,
Reuben Wilson,
The Invisible,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q and Not U,
The Techniques,
Quando Quango,
Graham Central Station,
Cymande,
Mandrill,
Los Fastidios,
Matthew Bourne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Echospace,
Jacob Miller,
Fluxion,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Divine Comedy,
Lindisfarne,
Lebanon Hanover,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rotary Connection,
Malaria!,
Schoolly D,
Spoonie Gee,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
Sam Rivers,
The Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.