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 Czech Republic and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Young Marble Giants to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Blancmange,
The Toasters,
James White and The Blacks,
Crime,
Index,
Scratch Acid,
Clear Light,
Talk Talk,
Arthur Verocai,
48th St. Collective,
John Holt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
F. McDonald,
Organ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nik Kershaw,
The Remains,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
Funky Four + One,
The Move,
The Barracudas,
Simply Red,
Marmalade,
T.S.O.L.,
Derrick Morgan,
The Music Machine,
Cecil Taylor,
Mars,
Ultimate Spinach,
Main Source,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Dorothy Ashby,
H. Thieme,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Joyce Sims,
Yazoo,
Moebius,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Unwound,
Duran Duran,
Alice Coltrane,
Yellowson,
Rakim,
Ronnie Foster,
Outsiders,
Aloha Tigers,
Nas,
Patti Smith,
Rod Modell,
Moby Grape,
Arab on Radar,
Guru Guru,
The Red Krayola,
Lower 48,
Surgeon,
A Certain Ratio,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Count Five,
The Slackers,
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.