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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Black Bananas to the dance 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ 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 snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Deepchord,
Man Parrish,
Sister Nancy,
Mars,
David McCallum,
Scrapy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sparks,
Absolute Body Control,
Blancmange,
The Trojans,
The Cowsills,
Inner City,
Rapeman,
Main Source,
Theoretical Girls,
Sarah Menescal,
Boz Scaggs,
LL Cool J,
Connie Case,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers,
Kerri Chandler,
The Misunderstood,
Jeff Mills,
Goldenarms,
Ice-T,
Q65,
Brick,
Scientists,
Gong,
Pet Shop Boys,
DNA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ludus,
Maurizio,
Judy Mowatt,
Zero Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Albert Ayler,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare,
Panda Bear,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pierre Henry,
Bob Dylan,
Harry Pussy,
Freddie Wadling,
Cluster,
Thee Headcoats,
The Offenders,
The Index,
Dennis Brown,
Stockholm Monsters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alphaville,
Aswad,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.