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 Zambia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Moleskins,
The Toasters,
Sister Nancy,
Spandau Ballet,
JFA,
Babytalk,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sex Pistols,
Funky Four + One,
Harmonia,
Joyce Sims,
Howard Jones,
John Foxx,
Gang of Four,
The Gories,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deakin,
Kas Product,
The Offenders,
Little Man,
One Last Wish,
The Residents,
Nas,
Goldenarms,
Lyres,
The Real Kids,
Wings,
Connie Case,
The Names,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül II,
Gong,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tubeway Army,
The Smiths,
Black Pus,
Warsaw,
Q65,
Model 500,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aaron Thompson,
Whodini,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
Echospace,
Quadrant,
The Pop Group,
Bang On A Can,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joe Smooth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
B.T. Express,
Fugazi,
Chrome,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Niagra,
La Düsseldorf,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.