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 Swaziland and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 D'Angelo to the disco 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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
cv313,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hoover,
Lightning Bolt,
Girls At Our Best!,
Los Fastidios,
H. Thieme,
Crooked Eye,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skarface,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mummies,
Crime,
Marvin Gaye,
The Young Rascals,
Massinfluence,
X-102,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Altered Images,
Bluetip,
Sonic Youth,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Marcia Griffiths,
Slick Rick,
Cal Tjader,
Jesper Dahlback,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tom Boy,
Drexciya,
Roger Hodgson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Zeros,
Agent Orange,
Section 25,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ralphi Rosario,
Letta Mbulu,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
K-Klass,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dawn Penn,
The Saints,
Gong,
Animal Collective,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Brass Construction,
Ossler,
The Electric Prunes,
JFA,
Stiv Bators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Zapp,
Albert Ayler,
Lou Reed,
The Evens,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.