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 Nauru and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Darondo to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb 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 clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Shuggie Otis,
Eddi Front,
Siglo XX,
Fear,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scion,
Lalann,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Y Pants,
The Wake,
Sun City Girls,
Cymande,
Sam Rivers,
Man Parrish,
Babytalk,
Cluster,
Prince Buster,
Don Cherry,
Derrick May,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Flag,
Half Japanese,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pet Shop Boys,
Visage,
The Angels of Light,
L. Decosne,
Khruangbin,
Ronnie Foster,
Alison Limerick,
The Martian,
Vladislav Delay,
The Invisible,
X-102,
Roxette,
Mary Jane Girls,
Judy Mowatt,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television,
The Move,
AZ,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Real Kids,
Mars,
Kurtis Blow,
Heaven 17,
Bluetip,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Altered Images,
Fat Boys,
Goldenarms,
Circle Jerks,
The Music Machine,
Amon Düül,
Black Moon,
Theoretical Girls,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.