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 Bahrain and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
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,
New York Dolls,
Pere Ubu,
Sonic Youth,
Aswad,
the Soft Cell,
the Germs,
Adolescents,
Ponytail,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sam Rivers,
Glenn Branca,
The Motions,
Icehouse,
Talk Talk,
Deadbeat,
Make Up,
Parry Music,
Cheater Slicks,
The Zeros,
The Blackbyrds,
The Names,
Vainqueur,
The Walker Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yazoo,
Man Parrish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bluetip,
Supertramp,
Quadrant,
Curtis Mayfield,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Fall,
Rhythm & Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lou Christie,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Flag,
Mars,
Ultra Naté,
X-101,
The Durutti Column,
Wire,
Tomorrow,
Gang Gang Dance,
MC5,
Barbara Tucker,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Flesh Eaters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Monochrome Set,
The Moody Blues,
Kayak,
Harry Pussy,
Funky Four + One,
Liliput,
Johnny Clarke,
The Seeds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.