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 Egypt and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Easy Going,
FM Einheit,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tim Buckley,
Nils Olav,
The Techniques,
David Bowie,
DNA,
Symarip,
Stetsasonic,
Morten Harket,
Severed Heads,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Neon Judgement,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Move,
EPMD,
Steve Hackett,
Man Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
Bob Dylan,
Darondo,
Swans,
Matthew Halsall,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Young Marble Giants,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Minny Pops,
Simply Red,
Babytalk,
Tears for Fears,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Funkadelic,
The Standells,
The Monks,
Sällskapet,
Erasure,
The Martian,
The Cowsills,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flipper,
Magazine,
Sparks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
Jeff Lynne,
Juan Atkins,
T. Rex,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Television Personalities,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marmalade,
Japan,
Absolute Body Control,
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.