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 Czech Republic and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Dead Boys to the punk 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
PIL,
Black Flag,
Johnny Clarke,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joey Negro,
Drexciya,
Average White Band,
The Buckinghams,
Pylon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Green,
Ronnie Foster,
Alison Limerick,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wally Richardson,
the Association,
Lindisfarne,
Nico,
Tim Buckley,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Tremeloes,
Cameo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Theoretical Girls,
Davy DMX,
Deakin,
Sun City Girls,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
Index,
Kool Moe Dee,
Laurel Aitken,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy Collins,
Franke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobby Byrd,
Trumans Water,
Agitation Free,
Marmalade,
Ultravox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Urselle,
The Young Rascals,
Mr. Review,
Shuggie Otis,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stiv Bators,
Nils Olav,
Mission of Burma,
Yellowson,
Lakeside,
Section 25,
Rotary Connection,
Masters at Work,
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.