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 Uganda and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator 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 organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Bobby Sherman,
Das Ding,
Y Pants,
Infiniti,
The Residents,
Ohio Players,
Parry Music,
The Barracudas,
Amazonics,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Swans,
F. McDonald,
The Victims,
Aswad,
Lindisfarne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echospace,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gabor Szabo,
Minor Threat,
Essential Logic,
Goldenarms,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Womack,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Misunderstood,
The Moleskins,
Bang On A Can,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Christie,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slits,
Inner City,
Radio Birdman,
Talk Talk,
KRS-One,
The Black Dice,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rapeman,
Brass Construction,
Groovy Waters,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fortunes,
AZ,
Radiohead,
The Doors,
Charles Mingus,
The Dead C,
The Monochrome Set,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Skaos,
Ludus,
Sällskapet,
Guru Guru,
Bronski Beat,
Lucky Dragons,
Oblivians,
Josef K,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arthur Verocai,
A Certain Ratio,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.