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 Cyprus and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 sitar 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 Fluxion to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin 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 snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Five Americans,
Dead Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
Procol Harum,
In Retrospect,
Janne Schatter,
The Fugs,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
The Last Poets,
Matthew Bourne,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lyres,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Duran Duran,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Happenings,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bill Wells,
The Associates,
Jeff Mills,
June of 44,
Malaria!,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Lalo Schifrin,
Isaac Hayes,
10cc,
Hot Snakes,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Litter,
Yaz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sister Nancy,
Camouflage,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Saints,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wings,
Cluster,
Wire,
Tears for Fears,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
JFA,
Fear,
The Beau Brummels,
B.T. Express,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soul II Soul,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sparks,
T. Rex,
Warsaw,
The Selecter,
Marine Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.