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 Burundi and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ornette Coleman,
The J.B.'s,
The Barracudas,
Johnny Clarke,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
Hot Snakes,
Make Up,
Tommy Roe,
Liliput,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Black Pus,
Arab on Radar,
Suicide,
Donald Byrd,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Byron Stingily,
Banda Bassotti,
John Holt,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Dead C,
The Beau Brummels,
Theoretical Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Echospace,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Intrusion,
Pere Ubu,
The Real Kids,
Jeff Lynne,
Nirvana,
Sight & Sound,
Wolf Eyes,
Gichy Dan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skaos,
Youth Brigade,
Howard Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scan 7,
Lee Hazlewood,
Grauzone,
K-Klass,
Sun Ra,
the Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Gap Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Urselle,
David Axelrod,
The Skatalites,
The Cowsills,
Henry Cow,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.