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 Latvia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rock 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Monks,
Robert Görl,
JFA,
Kayak,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Erykah Badu,
Cluster,
Sparks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
Dennis Brown,
Shoche,
Kerri Chandler,
Smog,
The Doors,
Johnny Clarke,
Bluetip,
Average White Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Smoke,
Siglo XX,
Heaven 17,
Sun Ra,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Motorama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Swans,
Bronski Beat,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marshall Jefferson,
This Heat,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Second Layer,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Suicide,
Yusef Lateef,
Neil Young,
The Birthday Party,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Byrd,
AZ,
The Black Dice,
Camberwell Now,
Y Pants,
Ten City,
Lightning Bolt,
The Dead C,
The Shadows of Knight,
James White and The Blacks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June Days,
Todd Rundgren,
Dead Boys,
Delta 5,
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.