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 Finland and from Beijing.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Radio Birdman to the electroclash 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe 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 chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Cecil Taylor,
Sixth Finger,
Judy Mowatt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rekid,
Bauhaus,
June of 44,
Rakim,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marvin Gaye,
Johnny Clarke,
Mr. Review,
Porter Ricks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blossom Toes,
Tres Demented,
Vladislav Delay,
Laurel Aitken,
The Doors,
Severed Heads,
David McCallum,
Mo-Dettes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Spoonie Gee,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tom Boy,
Todd Terry,
New Order,
Henry Cow,
Buzzcocks,
The Martian,
Nick Fraelich,
R.M.O.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cluster,
Traffic Nightmare,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Malaria!,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wolf Eyes,
Television,
Robert Hood,
Pulsallama,
Soft Machine,
Letta Mbulu,
The Walker Brothers,
Anakelly,
The American Breed,
Aswad,
ABBA,
Ponytail,
Model 500,
Blake Baxter,
Jawbox,
June Days,
Hot Snakes,
Delta 5,
Intrusion,
Kerri Chandler,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.