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 Albania and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Mars,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Index,
Altered Images,
The Invisible,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Henry Cow,
Josef K,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Shadows of Knight,
Grey Daturas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scrapy,
Godley & Creme,
Half Japanese,
U.S. Maple,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Walker Brothers,
E-Dancer,
H. Thieme,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Velvet Underground,
Robert Görl,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Stooges,
Sam Rivers,
Camouflage,
Idris Muhammad,
The Victims,
Alison Limerick,
Minor Threat,
Theoretical Girls,
Swans,
The Residents,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Erasure,
Scott Walker,
Funkadelic,
Warren Ellis,
Gang Green,
The J.B.'s,
Bobby Sherman,
The Doors,
Jerry's Kids,
Cameo,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Standells,
Bronski Beat,
Slick Rick,
Neu!,
Brand Nubian,
The Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Duran Duran,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.