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 Yemen and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 The Names to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin 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 spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Crooked Eye,
Terrestrial Tones,
Desert Stars,
The Pretty Things,
Boogie Down Productions,
Leonard Cohen,
Terry Callier,
The Five Americans,
The Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sandy B,
Public Enemy,
Ituana,
Index,
The Doors,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Eli Mardock,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang of Four,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
OOIOO,
Can,
Qualms,
Nick Fraelich,
Cameo,
Lyres,
Blossom Toes,
Minny Pops,
Quando Quango,
Procol Harum,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Erykah Badu,
Alton Ellis,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick May,
A Flock of Seagulls,
H. Thieme,
Vladislav Delay,
Sonic Youth,
Don Cherry,
Todd Terry,
Bill Near,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minor Threat,
Warsaw,
The Count Five,
Make Up,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kerri Chandler,
Bob Dylan,
Surgeon,
The Sonics,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cure,
The Stooges,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.