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 Dominica and from New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Birthday Party to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro 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 synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Bootsy Collins,
Prince Buster,
Al Stewart,
Bauhaus,
L. Decosne,
Clear Light,
Sällskapet,
PIL,
Little Man,
the Soft Cell,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harmonia,
Scan 7,
Faust,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doors,
The Last Poets,
The Red Krayola,
R.M.O.,
The Tremeloes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vainqueur,
Guru Guru,
Q65,
Dennis Brown,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
OOIOO,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Trumans Water,
Duran Duran,
Goldenarms,
Camouflage,
Monolake,
Bill Wells,
Dual Sessions,
Bang On A Can,
Dead Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Das Ding,
Joyce Sims,
the Slits,
Sound Behaviour,
Kerri Chandler,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sun City Girls,
Lalann,
Wasted Youth,
Ten City,
Aural Exciters,
The Barracudas,
Bob Dylan,
Rakim,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Pop Group,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fad Gadget,
The Beau Brummels,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.