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 Kazakhstan and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Junior Murvin to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Quadrant,
Suburban Knight,
Eden Ahbez,
Prince Buster,
Flipper,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Starr,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chris Corsano,
Ten City,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Trojans,
Loose Ends,
Lou Christie,
Fatback Band,
Rod Modell,
Donny Hathaway,
MDC,
Grey Daturas,
Reuben Wilson,
Brass Construction,
Clear Light,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Don Cherry,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker,
Alphaville,
Wings,
Faraquet,
D'Angelo,
Easy Going,
The Grass Roots,
Organ,
Scan 7,
The Residents,
Sight & Sound,
Duran Duran,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sarah Menescal,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Aswad,
Lucky Dragons,
Johnny Clarke,
Barclay James Harvest,
Susan Cadogan,
The New Christs,
Andrew Hill,
Black Bananas,
Saccharine Trust,
Roger Hodgson,
The Busters,
The Gladiators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ronan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lightning Bolt,
The United States of America,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.