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 Chad and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Sun City Girls to the punk 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camouflage,
Mad Mike,
Surgeon,
Arcadia,
Todd Rundgren,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Blues Magoos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ronan,
Roxette,
Brass Construction,
The Zeros,
H. Thieme,
The Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fall,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Blancmange,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Schoolly D,
The Knickerbockers,
The Five Americans,
Zapp,
Gong,
The Index,
Quando Quango,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Matthew Halsall,
The Beau Brummels,
Flipper,
Scott Walker,
Gang Green,
Skarface,
U.S. Maple,
Kas Product,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doors,
The Gladiators,
Hasil Adkins,
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
Dennis Brown,
Susan Cadogan,
the Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rod Modell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terry Callier,
Whodini,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Shuggie Otis,
Yaz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soulsonic Force,
Absolute Body Control,
Marmalade,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jeff Mills,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.