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 Morocco and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grime 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Peter and Kerry,
Ronnie Foster,
The Doors,
Danielle Patucci,
In Retrospect,
Blancmange,
Terry Callier,
James White and The Blacks,
Pole,
Bootsy Collins,
Tim Buckley,
Los Fastidios,
Saccharine Trust,
Con Funk Shun,
Fatback Band,
Radio Birdman,
Subhumans,
Ultravox,
Letta Mbulu,
Ice-T,
Banda Bassotti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fluxion,
H. Thieme,
Zapp,
Michelle Simonal,
kango's stein massive,
Quando Quango,
Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Boredoms,
T.S.O.L.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Negative Approach,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Groovy Waters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
Mad Mike,
Charles Mingus,
Moebius,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Laurel Aitken,
Pierre Henry,
Sam Rivers,
Crime,
Adolescents,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Suicide,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Fugs,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
Cheater Slicks,
Ohio Players,
Rotary Connection,
Marvin Gaye,
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.