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 Kiribati and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mantronix,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Misunderstood,
Monks,
Black Sheep,
Bush Tetras,
Gong,
The Saints,
The Birthday Party,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Pus,
Albert Ayler,
Loose Ends,
Brothers Johnson,
Ponytail,
Jacob Miller,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bob Dylan,
Black Bananas,
The Pretty Things,
Little Man,
The Slackers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Flash Fearless,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Womack,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Brand Nubian,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eddi Front,
Erasure,
Infiniti,
John Foxx,
Boredoms,
Intrusion,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deepchord,
AZ,
Andrew Hill,
Chris Corsano,
Connie Case,
JFA,
The Dead C,
Gang Green,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tim Buckley,
The Moleskins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tom Boy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Average White Band,
Zero Boys,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Offenders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Kinks,
Alison Limerick,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.