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 Laos and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Altered Images to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Robert Görl,
Matthew Bourne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Archie Shepp,
Marvin Gaye,
Angry Samoans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nico,
The Victims,
Freddie Wadling,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Womack,
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Brick,
Howard Jones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
Thee Headcoats,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Section 25,
the Fania All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Association,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hot Snakes,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Almond,
Susan Cadogan,
Ossler,
Charles Mingus,
the Germs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
OOIOO,
Yaz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mojo Men,
Pantytec,
X-Ray Spex,
Schoolly D,
Soft Cell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eurythmics,
The Pop Group,
Amon Düül II,
Wire,
Carl Craig,
Eden Ahbez,
H. Thieme,
Peter & Gordon,
Vladislav Delay,
The Sonics,
The American Breed,
Aural Exciters,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.