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 Bangladesh and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bluetip to the electroclash 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
H. Thieme,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roxy Music,
Scott Walker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warren Ellis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pantytec,
Monolake,
Cheater Slicks,
Nils Olav,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fear,
Kurtis Blow,
The Divine Comedy,
Cymande,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Drive Like Jehu,
Byron Stingily,
Jesper Dahlback,
In Retrospect,
Echospace,
Wally Richardson,
cv313,
Amon Düül,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dennis Brown,
Blake Baxter,
Ken Boothe,
Bizarre Inc.,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
The Tremeloes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sonny Sharrock,
Half Japanese,
MDC,
New York Dolls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding,
Beasts of Bourbon,
La Düsseldorf,
Rakim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mission of Burma,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dorothy Ashby,
Silicon Teens,
Sight & Sound,
Black Bananas,
The Red Krayola,
Bush Tetras,
Rosa Yemen,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Urselle,
Bobby Byrd,
Q and Not U,
Los Fastidios,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.