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 Comoros and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Mad Mike to the funk 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet 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 spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Ken Boothe,
Minnie Riperton,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barrington Levy,
Faraquet,
Magma,
The Five Americans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roxette,
The Toasters,
Simply Red,
The Neon Judgement,
Accadde A,
the Germs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Names,
CMW,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Happenings,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Man Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fire Engines,
Isaac Hayes,
Maurizio,
Crooked Eye,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Litter,
Blancmange,
Nik Kershaw,
Funkadelic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Donny Hathaway,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wire,
The Cowsills,
Second Layer,
Arab on Radar,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Y Pants,
Grauzone,
Flipper,
Public Enemy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
Josef K,
Slick Rick,
Howard Jones,
Mantronix,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rosa Yemen,
Minor Threat,
Crime,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.