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 Seychelles and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and a snare 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 snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Eddi Front,
Pulsallama,
Mad Mike,
The Walker Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Red Krayola,
The Moleskins,
Glenn Branca,
Slave,
The Victims,
Faust,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bob Dylan,
Suicide,
Interpol,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Magazine,
The Misunderstood,
Sarah Menescal,
Tres Demented,
Angry Samoans,
The Stooges,
The Doors,
Neu!,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Foxx,
Dark Day,
The Sound,
Scion,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Velvet Underground,
Judy Mowatt,
Arthur Verocai,
Man Parrish,
MDC,
Janne Schatter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Absolute Body Control,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Robert Görl,
Country Teasers,
Ludus,
Reuben Wilson,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABBA,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gap Band,
the Human League,
Severed Heads,
The Litter,
cv313,
Ken Boothe,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.