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 Angola and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 kango's stein massive to the disco 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar 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 harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Enemy,
Black Moon,
Pussy Galore,
Shuggie Otis,
Ice-T,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Golliwogs,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moody Blues,
EPMD,
Goldenarms,
8 Eyed Spy,
K-Klass,
T. Rex,
The J.B.'s,
Monks,
Groovy Waters,
KRS-One,
Alphaville,
Junior Murvin,
Swans,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Hood,
The American Breed,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Style,
Deepchord,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Vogues,
The Fugs,
Brothers Johnson,
Henry Cow,
The Busters,
kango's stein massive,
Sixth Finger,
Television Personalities,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Residents,
Freddie Wadling,
Essential Logic,
The Black Dice,
Masters at Work,
Rotary Connection,
Sight & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flash Fearless,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Archie Shepp,
The New Christs,
Gang Starr,
UT,
Fatback Band,
New York Dolls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Raincoats,
Los Fastidios,
The Last Poets,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Birthday Party,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.