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 Colombia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 theremin 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron 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 oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
Gang Gang Dance,
PIL,
Wasted Youth,
Dual Sessions,
Black Bananas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pulsallama,
the Bar-Kays,
Henry Cow,
Fela Kuti,
Michelle Simonal,
Underground Resistance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Slits,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Almond,
Flamin' Groovies,
Juan Atkins,
T.S.O.L.,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
Schoolly D,
Subhumans,
Delta 5,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Byrd,
Marine Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cure,
Theoretical Girls,
Bush Tetras,
The Neon Judgement,
D'Angelo,
Jeff Lynne,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Nik Kershaw,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Peter & Gordon,
Eden Ahbez,
Blancmange,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doobie Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
Nas,
Max Romeo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cramps,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.