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 Liberia and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Michael McDonald 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 Althea and Donna to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Sparks,
The Toasters,
Gang Green,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pagans,
Neil Young,
The Golliwogs,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Skatalites,
The American Breed,
Ronnie Foster,
The Modern Lovers,
Al Stewart,
Blossom Toes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Peter and Kerry,
The Beau Brummels,
Barry Ungar,
The Fuzztones,
T. Rex,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Danielle Patucci,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doors,
Aloha Tigers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Swans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Con Funk Shun,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Pus,
Pylon,
Sun Ra,
Au Pairs,
Warren Ellis,
Country Teasers,
Charles Mingus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Techniques,
Gong,
Avey Tare,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Yellowson,
Angry Samoans,
Amon Düül II,
Darondo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Negative Approach,
The Monochrome Set,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bob Dylan,
Banda Bassotti,
New Age Steppers,
The Tremeloes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eli Mardock,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.