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 Costa Rica and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dead Boys to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ituana,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Star Department,
Bad Manners,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gang Green,
Public Enemy,
Bill Wells,
Severed Heads,
Rotary Connection,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Y Pants,
The Monks,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
The Divine Comedy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Archie Shepp,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pussy Galore,
Vainqueur,
Deepchord,
Magazine,
The Barracudas,
Bob Dylan,
Stereo Dub,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lyres,
Symarip,
Gabor Szabo,
The Grass Roots,
Barbara Tucker,
Accadde A,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Don Cherry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
David Axelrod,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Unrelated Segments,
The United States of America,
John Cale,
Alison Limerick,
Blake Baxter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Techniques,
Rosa Yemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Fuzztones,
Chrome,
Alton Ellis,
Depeche Mode,
Negative Approach,
Nico,
Zero Boys,
Zapp,
The Remains,
Patti Smith,
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.