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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Yaz,
Monolake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Five Americans,
Eric Copeland,
Connie Case,
Marshall Jefferson,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
The American Breed,
The Invisible,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sugar Minott,
Joy Division,
Delta 5,
Altered Images,
Fugazi,
Trumans Water,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brand Nubian,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Boredoms,
Reuben Wilson,
The Saints,
Jacques Brel,
Minny Pops,
Arthur Verocai,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Procol Harum,
Chrome,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ohio Players,
The Gun Club,
Bizarre Inc.,
Guru Guru,
Godley & Creme,
Joe Finger,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aural Exciters,
Moebius,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cheater Slicks,
DNA,
Pole,
Au Pairs,
Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
The Pop Group,
Brick,
F. McDonald,
Robert Görl,
Severed Heads,
Toni Rubio,
Warren Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Victims,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.