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 Macedonia and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gregory Isaacs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator 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 marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Organ,
Banda Bassotti,
Surgeon,
Alison Limerick,
Rekid,
Deakin,
Mission of Burma,
The Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Henry Cow,
Jacob Miller,
Lightning Bolt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Drexciya,
The Leaves,
The Beau Brummels,
The Young Rascals,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Second Layer,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eden Ahbez,
The Searchers,
A Certain Ratio,
Boz Scaggs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hasil Adkins,
JFA,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kaleidoscope,
Swell Maps,
Don Cherry,
The Toasters,
Wire,
The Wake,
Kas Product,
The Skatalites,
Quadrant,
Piero Umiliani,
Monolake,
Glambeats Corp.,
Spoonie Gee,
Wolf Eyes,
Al Stewart,
World's Most,
Saccharine Trust,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Brothers Johnson,
Roger Hodgson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Los Fastidios,
the Normal,
Bootsy Collins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Darondo,
Flipper,
Quando Quango,
Lungfish,
Charles Mingus,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.