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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes 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 spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker,
Circle Jerks,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Gun Club,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gories,
Toni Rubio,
The Grass Roots,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Simply Red,
Visage,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joe Finger,
Chrome,
Basic Channel,
Donny Hathaway,
Bill Wells,
Andrew Hill,
Wings,
The Gap Band,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
DJ Style,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wasted Youth,
The Wake,
Shoche,
Swell Maps,
Fatback Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Anakelly,
Ice-T,
James White and The Blacks,
New Order,
Television,
The Kinks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David Axelrod,
Godley & Creme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eli Mardock,
Panda Bear,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Absolute Body Control,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bill Near,
Tom Boy,
Faust,
Lungfish,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.