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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Electric Prunes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
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,
F. McDonald,
The Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nirvana,
Lalann,
Sound Behaviour,
Aswad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
Scion,
Suburban Knight,
Scan 7,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jeff Lynne,
ABC,
Joe Smooth,
Massinfluence,
Yazoo,
Y Pants,
Pussy Galore,
Faraquet,
Crime,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Fugs,
FM Einheit,
The Invisible,
Alphaville,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
Drexciya,
Kerrie Biddell,
Inner City,
Graham Central Station,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Germs,
Mad Mike,
Dave Gahan,
The Count Five,
Desert Stars,
The Techniques,
Nation of Ulysses,
Saccharine Trust,
B.T. Express,
Mandrill,
Quando Quango,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
Monolake,
Animal Collective,
Franke,
K-Klass,
Marc Almond,
New York Dolls,
Khruangbin,
Letta Mbulu,
Avey Tare,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.