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 Iceland and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lower 48 to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a marimba and a synthesizer 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 organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Byrd,
Khruangbin,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
David Bowie,
The Doors,
Donald Byrd,
Wings,
Radiohead,
Bill Near,
Pere Ubu,
The Saints,
Fat Boys,
Cybotron,
Cecil Taylor,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lungfish,
Donny Hathaway,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gichy Dan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Depeche Mode,
B.T. Express,
Archie Shepp,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Supertramp,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blues Magoos,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
KRS-One,
Peter and Kerry,
Altered Images,
Popol Vuh,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Mark Hollis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Spandau Ballet,
Scientists,
These Immortal Souls,
L. Decosne,
Anthony Braxton,
Terry Callier,
Cluster,
The Cure,
Moebius,
Isaac Hayes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Buzzcocks,
Roy Ayers,
Joy Division,
The Neon Judgement,
Little Man,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Procol Harum,
Black Pus,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.