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 Mongolia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Junior Murvin to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a guitar 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 organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Scrapy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rites of Spring,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Monolake,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Letta Mbulu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare,
Amazonics,
Andrew Hill,
Wasted Youth,
Chris Corsano,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Interpol,
The Fugs,
Gang Starr,
John Foxx,
a-ha,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Franke,
The Standells,
The Birthday Party,
Pole,
Wally Richardson,
Kayak,
Metal Thangz,
The Knickerbockers,
Shoche,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Freddie Wadling,
Fugazi,
Babytalk,
Chris & Cosey,
Ludus,
Los Fastidios,
Excepter,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scan 7,
Oneida,
Underground Resistance,
Livin' Joy,
Todd Terry,
Jacques Brel,
Icehouse,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Buckinghams,
Heaven 17,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gories,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erykah Badu,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.