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 Benin and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Intrusion 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Sound,
Young Marble Giants,
Sun City Girls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scan 7,
The Cowsills,
Deepchord,
Henry Cow,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jeff Lynne,
The Moleskins,
LL Cool J,
Audionom,
Livin' Joy,
Radiohead,
The Velvet Underground,
Anthony Braxton,
B.T. Express,
The Litter,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mojo Men,
OOIOO,
The Residents,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
This Heat,
Ten City,
Nick Fraelich,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Donny Hathaway,
The Grass Roots,
Whodini,
Mission of Burma,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
Rod Modell,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ponytail,
Negative Approach,
Rosa Yemen,
Donald Byrd,
Suicide,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Slick Rick,
Fat Boys,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Names,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Index,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Swans,
Nas,
Rotary Connection,
Pylon,
Oneida,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Hashim,
The Invisible,
Jerry's Kids,
Eurythmics,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.