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 Mauritania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin 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 oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Swans,
Unwound,
Crime,
Thompson Twins,
The Gladiators,
Moss Icon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minnie Riperton,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Judy Mowatt,
Gang Green,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rotary Connection,
JFA,
Sister Nancy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Inner City,
Gong,
The Monks,
Zapp,
PIL,
Barry Ungar,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Magma,
Big Daddy Kane,
Monks,
Patti Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Jeff Mills,
Scion,
Dennis Brown,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stetsasonic,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Talk Talk,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brass Construction,
the Soft Cell,
Brick,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lakeside,
Sparks,
The Young Rascals,
Swell Maps,
Can,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Moon,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anakelly,
Soul II Soul,
The Techniques,
Fela Kuti,
Rufus Thomas,
MC5,
Nirvana,
Toni Rubio,
The Walker Brothers,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.