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 Qatar and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 Von Mondo to the electroclash 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ 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 guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Janne Schatter,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Victims,
the Soft Cell,
Brand Nubian,
The Selecter,
John Cale,
Young Marble Giants,
Radio Birdman,
Ituana,
Royal Trux,
Godley & Creme,
Lucky Dragons,
Tears for Fears,
Nick Fraelich,
Underground Resistance,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jerry's Kids,
Outsiders,
Eddi Front,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alice Coltrane,
Sun Ra,
Average White Band,
The Fortunes,
Q65,
Blake Baxter,
Loose Ends,
Arthur Verocai,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ken Boothe,
Mad Mike,
Monks,
The Smiths,
Jacob Miller,
Babytalk,
The Knickerbockers,
Flamin' Groovies,
The American Breed,
Robert Wyatt,
Fat Boys,
Pet Shop Boys,
Alton Ellis,
Intrusion,
Popol Vuh,
The Velvet Underground,
Ten City,
Hot Snakes,
The Associates,
Zero Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Starr,
Tropical Tobacco,
These Immortal Souls,
The Count Five,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Names,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.