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 Seychelles and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Circle Jerks to the electroclash 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Angry Samoans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Accadde A,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marvin Gaye,
Hoover,
Archie Shepp,
Lalann,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gun Club,
The Walker Brothers,
Roxette,
The Trojans,
Leonard Cohen,
Faust,
Q65,
Quantec,
The Litter,
Glenn Branca,
Procol Harum,
Eric Dolphy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Derrick Morgan,
LL Cool J,
Ronnie Foster,
Traffic Nightmare,
Grauzone,
Terry Callier,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Hardrive,
T.S.O.L.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Junior Murvin,
Malaria!,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rosa Yemen,
Anakelly,
Al Stewart,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fela Kuti,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fortunes,
The Durutti Column,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minutemen,
Rapeman,
Stetsasonic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Maurizio,
Flipper,
The Skatalites,
Anthony Braxton,
Bad Manners,
Monolake,
Country Teasers,
F. McDonald,
Ultravox,
MC5,
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.