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 Botswana and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin 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 Ultravox to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin 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 sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Offenders,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Eli Mardock,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Morten Harket,
Procol Harum,
The Dead C,
Anthony Braxton,
Eve St. Jones,
D'Angelo,
Marine Girls,
Supertramp,
The United States of America,
The Divine Comedy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Skriet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bush Tetras,
Technova,
The Pretty Things,
Camouflage,
Dennis Brown,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-Ray Spex,
Cameo,
Harry Pussy,
Simply Red,
L. Decosne,
The Human League,
Donald Byrd,
Eric Copeland,
Mo-Dettes,
The Stooges,
Robert Görl,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mars,
Toni Rubio,
Crash Course in Science,
One Last Wish,
The Walker Brothers,
Blancmange,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Zero Boys,
The Cowsills,
Barrington Levy,
Porter Ricks,
The Searchers,
Bauhaus,
Easy Going,
Young Marble Giants,
This Heat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Kinks,
Absolute Body Control,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Popol Vuh,
Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew.
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.