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 Togo and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Spokane.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Shuggie Otis,
Darondo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Qualms,
Franke,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Pus,
The Gladiators,
Scan 7,
LL Cool J,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brass Construction,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Amon Düül,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Beau Brummels,
Matthew Bourne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joe Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Quadrant,
Spoonie Gee,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Graham Central Station,
Alison Limerick,
Nico,
Susan Cadogan,
Agitation Free,
Warsaw,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blues Magoos,
Mars,
Harmonia,
A Certain Ratio,
Marmalade,
Popol Vuh,
Eric Dolphy,
Pantytec,
Inner City,
Ultimate Spinach,
Buzzcocks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Sheep,
Rapeman,
Don Cherry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Deepchord,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
Pussy Galore,
Heaven 17,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fugs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kenny Larkin,
Peter & Gordon,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.