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 United States and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Angry Samoans to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Anakelly,
Stockholm Monsters,
Country Teasers,
Banda Bassotti,
Camouflage,
Derrick May,
Underground Resistance,
The Cowsills,
Marvin Gaye,
The Cramps,
The Mojo Men,
Andrew Hill,
Adolescents,
Rod Modell,
The Zeros,
Blancmange,
Barry Ungar,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Soft Cell,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sällskapet,
The Blackbyrds,
Liliput,
The Doors,
Crooked Eye,
Don Cherry,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Boogie Down Productions,
DJ Sneak,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Almond,
Section 25,
Warren Ellis,
Flash Fearless,
Bill Wells,
The Electric Prunes,
Popol Vuh,
Pylon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soft Machine,
Scott Walker,
X-101,
Public Enemy,
Crime,
Tomorrow,
Duran Duran,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Anthony Braxton,
Erasure,
John Foxx,
The Litter,
Yusef Lateef,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.