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 Libya and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rites of Spring 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum 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 clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Infiniti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nirvana,
Cymande,
Heaven 17,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Gladiators,
Negative Approach,
Yaz,
Marvin Gaye,
Q and Not U,
H. Thieme,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Judy Mowatt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
KRS-One,
The Tremeloes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang Green,
Procol Harum,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lucky Dragons,
The Walker Brothers,
Subhumans,
Deakin,
Pierre Henry,
the Fania All-Stars,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
The Buckinghams,
Mantronix,
Isaac Hayes,
China Crisis,
Monks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Erasure,
Don Cherry,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Clarke,
Leonard Cohen,
Magma,
kango's stein massive,
Amon Düül,
The Seeds,
Maurizio,
Michelle Simonal,
Second Layer,
Black Sheep,
World's Most,
Bobby Womack,
Joe Finger,
Jeff Mills,
Stereo Dub,
Animal Collective,
DJ Sneak,
Mission of Burma,
Dawn Penn,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.