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 Liberia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Cymande 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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron 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 güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Minnie Riperton,
Colin Newman,
The Angels of Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minor Threat,
New Order,
Adolescents,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camberwell Now,
Idris Muhammad,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Q and Not U,
The Residents,
Monks,
Sugar Minott,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Leonard Cohen,
Bad Manners,
Henry Cow,
Motorama,
Warren Ellis,
Peter and Kerry,
Ludus,
The Kinks,
Kenny Larkin,
Neil Young,
The Offenders,
Rod Modell,
Al Stewart,
Pole,
Rosa Yemen,
Graham Central Station,
The Beau Brummels,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Angry Samoans,
Donny Hathaway,
Bauhaus,
Thompson Twins,
Pulsallama,
10cc,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Terrestrial Tones,
Arthur Verocai,
Hashim,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Duran Duran,
The Slits,
Hardrive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Organ,
Oneida,
Bizarre Inc.,
Harmonia,
John Holt,
Sonic Youth,
Gregory Isaacs,
Accadde A,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.