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 Uruguay and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Porter Ricks to the rock 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
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,
KRS-One,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Neu!,
Lower 48,
Boredoms,
Fat Boys,
Aural Exciters,
U.S. Maple,
Joe Finger,
48th St. Collective,
The Young Rascals,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aloha Tigers,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Doors,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Letta Mbulu,
Masters at Work,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Minutemen,
The New Christs,
Mission of Burma,
The Motions,
Severed Heads,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Urselle,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fugs,
Danielle Patucci,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Neon Judgement,
Joe Smooth,
The Moleskins,
Wasted Youth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ituana,
Gang of Four,
John Foxx,
Echospace,
Piero Umiliani,
Juan Atkins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Blossom Toes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dual Sessions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Man Parrish,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pagans,
the Association,
ABBA,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ornette Coleman,
Electric Prunes,
Scott Walker,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Stetsasonic,
La Düsseldorf,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.