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 St Lucia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 48th St. Collective to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Flash Fearless,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Slits,
Prince Buster,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Last Poets,
Wasted Youth,
Desert Stars,
The Barracudas,
Patti Smith,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeru the Damaja,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Magma,
Bronski Beat,
Easy Going,
Icehouse,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Leonard Cohen,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Modern Lovers,
Lucky Dragons,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Reuben Wilson,
Depeche Mode,
Public Enemy,
Anthony Braxton,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Warren Ellis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Seeds,
Ludus,
Aural Exciters,
Dual Sessions,
Alice Coltrane,
AZ,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
ABBA,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flipper,
Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Hot Snakes,
Idris Muhammad,
Cluster,
Darondo,
David McCallum,
The Gladiators,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker,
Marc Almond,
Porter Ricks,
Scan 7,
Kas Product,
Black Sheep,
John Cale,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.