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 Finland and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Gladiators to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
The Grass Roots,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jandek,
Scan 7,
Gang Gang Dance,
cv313,
The Fuzztones,
Kerrie Biddell,
B.T. Express,
Isaac Hayes,
The Selecter,
Youth Brigade,
Alphaville,
The Move,
Buzzcocks,
John Lydon,
Boz Scaggs,
Kaleidoscope,
The Stooges,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hot Snakes,
Brothers Johnson,
Rotary Connection,
Television,
Jeff Lynne,
Lungfish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roxette,
MC5,
U.S. Maple,
Chris Corsano,
Laurel Aitken,
Y Pants,
the Sonics,
John Cale,
Siglo XX,
Ludus,
The Associates,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bad Manners,
Boredoms,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Womack,
Monks,
Black Moon,
The Names,
Blake Baxter,
Ken Boothe,
The Cure,
Ronnie Foster,
Kayak,
The Music Machine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Severed Heads,
Aural Exciters,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.