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 Thailand and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and New York.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 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 Pole to the punk 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
the Sonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Oneida,
New Order,
The Tremeloes,
Carl Craig,
Pylon,
The Sonics,
Joe Finger,
Prince Buster,
Letta Mbulu,
One Last Wish,
Scion,
Mars,
Roxy Music,
Nils Olav,
Scratch Acid,
Con Funk Shun,
The Black Dice,
Black Flag,
Zero Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Neon Judgement,
Magazine,
Cymande,
Lou Christie,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Remains,
Nico,
L. Decosne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grauzone,
Minny Pops,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Trojans,
Rod Modell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marc Almond,
Cecil Taylor,
Warsaw,
Gabor Szabo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Saccharine Trust,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rufus Thomas,
Ludus,
Ultravox,
H. Thieme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Qualms,
Stereo Dub,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sarah Menescal,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tears for Fears,
the Human League,
John Cale,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.