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 Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Liliput to the techno 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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Fugs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Funky Four + One,
Anthony Braxton,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Invisible,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Aswad,
Leonard Cohen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Morten Harket,
Wasted Youth,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Buckinghams,
Arthur Verocai,
ABBA,
kango's stein massive,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Sonics,
Scion,
Minor Threat,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
X-Ray Spex,
Bang On A Can,
ABC,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Barracudas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yaz,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Icehouse,
K-Klass,
Unrelated Segments,
The Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
Deepchord,
The Toasters,
Lindisfarne,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sarah Menescal,
Skaos,
Delon & Dalcan,
Maurizio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Flash Fearless,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dual Sessions,
R.M.O.,
Inner City,
Ituana,
Y Pants,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roxy Music,
the Slits,
The Beau Brummels,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.