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 Georgia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron 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 Ultra Naté to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Zapp,
Rufus Thomas,
The Misunderstood,
DJ Sneak,
Gregory Isaacs,
F. McDonald,
KRS-One,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Outsiders,
Deadbeat,
The Fortunes,
Althea and Donna,
Derrick May,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Motorama,
Soft Machine,
Agitation Free,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Ossler,
Davy DMX,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
Amon Düül,
The Pop Group,
The Martian,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moby Grape,
Hoover,
Fluxion,
Malaria!,
Procol Harum,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drexciya,
Harmonia,
Eve St. Jones,
Country Teasers,
The Index,
Babytalk,
Roxette,
The Knickerbockers,
Silicon Teens,
Bob Dylan,
Freddie Wadling,
Girls At Our Best!,
Max Romeo,
Liliput,
Lebanon Hanover,
Surgeon,
Neu!,
Grey Daturas,
Con Funk Shun,
Lindisfarne,
The Tremeloes,
Scratch Acid,
Crime,
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.