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 Panama and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Residents to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Fatback Band,
The Golliwogs,
Slick Rick,
Inner City,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Colin Newman,
Interpol,
The Real Kids,
a-ha,
Trumans Water,
Thee Headcoats,
Alison Limerick,
Barclay James Harvest,
Godley & Creme,
The Leaves,
Sun Ra,
Cluster,
The Human League,
Stiv Bators,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Lynne,
Subhumans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Pretty Things,
Terrestrial Tones,
In Retrospect,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fall,
Flipper,
Crash Course in Science,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ken Boothe,
UT,
Warsaw,
Roy Ayers,
Robert Hood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dave Gahan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bob Dylan,
Dawn Penn,
MC5,
Heaven 17,
Jacques Brel,
Kayak,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sällskapet,
Popol Vuh,
Black Pus,
Guru Guru,
David McCallum,
Reuben Wilson,
Siglo XX,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Toasters,
Accadde A,
Steve Hackett,
Suburban Knight,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Blackbyrds,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.