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 Kyrgyzstan and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Big Daddy Kane to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
China Crisis,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
The Blackbyrds,
Neu!,
Warsaw,
The Searchers,
Funkadelic,
Andrew Hill,
Stockholm Monsters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Erykah Badu,
Talk Talk,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alice Coltrane,
Lower 48,
Boz Scaggs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Procol Harum,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Wells,
the Bar-Kays,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Young Marble Giants,
Symarip,
Liliput,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eddi Front,
Flipper,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mo-Dettes,
Gong,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Neon Judgement,
Piero Umiliani,
Easy Going,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Shuggie Otis,
The Stooges,
Faust,
The Smoke,
Robert Görl,
Radio Birdman,
Danielle Patucci,
Letta Mbulu,
the Slits,
Carl Craig,
LL Cool J,
Au Pairs,
The Sound,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
David Axelrod,
Al Stewart,
The Walker Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.