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 Cameroon and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Normal to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 linndrum 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 harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Flash Fearless,
Rhythm & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gladiators,
Liliput,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Seeds,
Underground Resistance,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
David Bowie,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alphaville,
Popol Vuh,
Main Source,
Zero Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wolf Eyes,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Skriet,
Slave,
Joe Smooth,
Archie Shepp,
Ornette Coleman,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Hood,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fall,
Sugar Minott,
Scrapy,
E-Dancer,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Pus,
Pole,
Patti Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fortunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cheater Slicks,
Slick Rick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Litter,
Neu!,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
The Gun Club,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Slits,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Toni Rubio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Clear Light,
L. Decosne,
Black Bananas,
The Count Five,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.