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 Nigeria and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minny Pops,
The Walker Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The United States of America,
DNA,
Second Layer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eric Dolphy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
David Axelrod,
Howard Jones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Beasts of Bourbon,
In Retrospect,
Crash Course in Science,
the Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Erykah Badu,
The J.B.'s,
Flipper,
Make Up,
Echospace,
The Fugs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rites of Spring,
Sam Rivers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dark Day,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gap Band,
Faraquet,
Excepter,
Maleditus Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Frankie Knuckles,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fatback Band,
Ituana,
Newcleus,
Roger Hodgson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bootsy Collins,
Chris Corsano,
The Barracudas,
Clear Light,
Harmonia,
UT,
The Electric Prunes,
Reuben Wilson,
Sandy B,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Foxx,
Young Marble Giants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.