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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sparks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '80s 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 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Brand Nubian,
Leonard Cohen,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aloha Tigers,
Fad Gadget,
The Real Kids,
Soul II Soul,
Wire,
Yellowson,
Gang Green,
Pantytec,
Clear Light,
Young Marble Giants,
Procol Harum,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ice-T,
The American Breed,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Funky Four + One,
KRS-One,
Be Bop Deluxe,
JFA,
The Walker Brothers,
The Dead C,
Soft Machine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
In Retrospect,
Dark Day,
The Gap Band,
Suicide,
Pulsallama,
The Fall,
ABC,
The United States of America,
The Five Americans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nils Olav,
Gang Starr,
Gong,
Monks,
U.S. Maple,
Popol Vuh,
H. Thieme,
Mary Jane Girls,
Television Personalities,
Kayak,
Sex Pistols,
Youth Brigade,
Moby Grape,
Rotary Connection,
Jawbox,
Bobby Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Inner City,
Unrelated Segments,
Prince Buster,
Pagans,
Oneida,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.