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 South Sudan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 Livin' Joy to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum 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 güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The Slits,
The Tremeloes,
The Stooges,
Neu!,
Skriet,
Frankie Knuckles,
The J.B.'s,
Sam Rivers,
Sister Nancy,
The Neon Judgement,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gregory Isaacs,
Tubeway Army,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nils Olav,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Qualms,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arab on Radar,
Eurythmics,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
The Selecter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Soft Cell,
Magazine,
PIL,
Crispy Ambulance,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radiopuhelimet,
Supertramp,
Juan Atkins,
Pole,
Big Daddy Kane,
Monolake,
These Immortal Souls,
Joe Finger,
The Seeds,
Todd Rundgren,
New Order,
Marvin Gaye,
The Angels of Light,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Vogues,
Vladislav Delay,
Bang On A Can,
Bluetip,
Bob Dylan,
Royal Trux,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yellowson,
Wings,
Archie Shepp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Altered Images,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.