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 Kuwait and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nils Olav to the disco 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare 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 clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Metal Thangz,
Babytalk,
Pylon,
Accadde A,
Crispian St. Peters,
Reagan Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ken Boothe,
Neu!,
Sparks,
Minutemen,
The Offenders,
Grauzone,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hashim,
The Toasters,
Schoolly D,
Jerry's Kids,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
48th St. Collective,
Traffic Nightmare,
Massinfluence,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Johnny Clarke,
These Immortal Souls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Birthday Party,
Ronnie Foster,
Young Marble Giants,
Jesper Dahlback,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sister Nancy,
CMW,
Marvin Gaye,
Suburban Knight,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Stooges,
Wings,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Basic Channel,
Boogie Down Productions,
Smog,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Funky Four + One,
Inner City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric Copeland,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Clear Light,
The New Christs,
Brass Construction,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Barracudas,
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
Letta Mbulu,
The Neon Judgement,
The Walker Brothers,
Shoche,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.