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 Japan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 kango's stein massive to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
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,
Colin Newman,
H. Thieme,
Tommy Roe,
Hashim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
Radiohead,
Marcia Griffiths,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crooked Eye,
Lakeside,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Shadows of Knight,
Roxette,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sonic Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
Ronan,
Joe Finger,
Organ,
PIL,
Nation of Ulysses,
EPMD,
Rites of Spring,
Glenn Branca,
Rapeman,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer,
Liliput,
Hasil Adkins,
Alphaville,
the Sonics,
Roxy Music,
Icehouse,
The Sonics,
The Grass Roots,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rosa Yemen,
Technova,
Joensuu 1685,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scrapy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Slave,
Joy Division,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lou Reed,
Lalann,
The Sound,
Marmalade,
Malaria!,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Victims,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dead C,
The Offenders,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.