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 Papua New Guinea and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gang Gang Dance to the disco 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
The Doors,
Wire,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rekid,
Sällskapet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scion,
Cal Tjader,
The Shadows of Knight,
Oneida,
Trumans Water,
Qualms,
a-ha,
Anthony Braxton,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Suburban Knight,
Tom Boy,
Loose Ends,
Minor Threat,
Matthew Bourne,
Pussy Galore,
Mr. Review,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Darondo,
the Human League,
Von Mondo,
Johnny Clarke,
Quantec,
U.S. Maple,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Black Dice,
John Coltrane,
Nico,
Brass Construction,
Pierre Henry,
Maurizio,
Basic Channel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Robert Görl,
8 Eyed Spy,
OOIOO,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bang On A Can,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Pretty Things,
Barrington Levy,
Jandek,
Black Bananas,
Jeff Lynne,
Banda Bassotti,
Nirvana,
Spandau Ballet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Interpol,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.