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 Ecuador and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sonny Sharrock to the techno 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer 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 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Robert Hood,
Crash Course in Science,
Flash Fearless,
Sex Pistols,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalo Schifrin,
The United States of America,
The Shadows of Knight,
Qualms,
Sugar Minott,
Monolake,
Sun City Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rufus Thomas,
Japan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fire Engines,
UT,
Unwound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Letta Mbulu,
Ituana,
Organ,
Moss Icon,
Faraquet,
Roxy Music,
The Associates,
The Dirtbombs,
Deadbeat,
The Techniques,
Guru Guru,
Magazine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
Davy DMX,
Nirvana,
Bobby Byrd,
Fela Kuti,
Masters at Work,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Thompson Twins,
The Fortunes,
Lou Reed,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jacques Brel,
Liliput,
Half Japanese,
Mark Hollis,
Cybotron,
David McCallum,
Circle Jerks,
Roxette,
Graham Central Station,
Ultimate Spinach,
a-ha,
Trumans Water,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lyres,
Ornette Coleman,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.