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 Kyrgyzstan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Lungfish to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ornette Coleman,
Goldenarms,
Inner City,
the Soft Cell,
a-ha,
Public Enemy,
Flash Fearless,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Piero Umiliani,
Unwound,
UT,
Babytalk,
Rhythm & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
Livin' Joy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ituana,
Buzzcocks,
Joey Negro,
Hardrive,
Black Flag,
Gang of Four,
Scratch Acid,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Suburban Knight,
Smog,
CMW,
Pagans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Drexciya,
Ponytail,
Second Layer,
Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Divine Comedy,
Nas,
Japan,
The Names,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T.S.O.L.,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
Depeche Mode,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
David McCallum,
Deepchord,
John Lydon,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cybotron,
Arcadia,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.