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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pantaleimon to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a spring reverb 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 rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
the Swans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Outsiders,
The Sound,
Franke,
Rapeman,
Terry Callier,
Susan Cadogan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pantaleimon,
John Coltrane,
Index,
The Offenders,
The Litter,
Essential Logic,
Funky Four + One,
Clear Light,
The J.B.'s,
Vainqueur,
Amazonics,
Tim Buckley,
Gong,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Absolute Body Control,
Liliput,
Stockholm Monsters,
Newcleus,
the Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jacob Miller,
Goldenarms,
The Toasters,
Minny Pops,
Pantytec,
Lindisfarne,
Unwound,
The Beau Brummels,
John Holt,
Subhumans,
Spoonie Gee,
T. Rex,
Swell Maps,
A Certain Ratio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Anthony Braxton,
Heaven 17,
Derrick Morgan,
Circle Jerks,
June Days,
Kool Moe Dee,
AZ,
Don Cherry,
Metal Thangz,
Quantec,
MC5,
The Pop Group,
Sarah Menescal,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Shoche,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
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.