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 Marshall Islands and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Amazonics to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
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,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Coltrane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flipper,
Steve Hackett,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Smog,
Isaac Hayes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Kinks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Massinfluence,
Minny Pops,
Oneida,
the Association,
Mad Mike,
The Searchers,
The Dirtbombs,
H. Thieme,
Saccharine Trust,
Magma,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Finger,
Charles Mingus,
The Residents,
The Star Department,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scrapy,
Robert Hood,
The Black Dice,
The Happenings,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cluster,
The Misunderstood,
Grauzone,
the Bar-Kays,
Eddi Front,
Pet Shop Boys,
Black Pus,
Siglo XX,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fugs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nick Fraelich,
DJ Style,
Camouflage,
Sonic Youth,
Organ,
Wire,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hardrive,
Althea and Donna,
Y Pants,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Swans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Metal Thangz,
The Raincoats,
Von Mondo,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.