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 Tuvalu and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bang On A Can to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Silicon Teens,
Kaleidoscope,
JFA,
The Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dennis Brown,
Cecil Taylor,
Matthew Halsall,
Eli Mardock,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
Con Funk Shun,
The Buckinghams,
The Index,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Saints,
Mission of Burma,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Associates,
Jandek,
DJ Style,
The Dead C,
Los Fastidios,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
Robert Wyatt,
Marvin Gaye,
Aloha Tigers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fuzztones,
Public Enemy,
Pulsallama,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Monochrome Set,
Mo-Dettes,
Erykah Badu,
The Five Americans,
Lower 48,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gang Starr,
Toni Rubio,
Adolescents,
The Raincoats,
The Neon Judgement,
Desert Stars,
Neu!,
Piero Umiliani,
Andrew Hill,
The Move,
Gang Gang Dance,
X-Ray Spex,
Basic Channel,
Jeff Mills,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lyres,
The Dirtbombs,
Hoover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.