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 Brunei and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Pylon to the techno 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a clarinet 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 rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joyce Sims,
Joey Negro,
E-Dancer,
Scan 7,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Pus,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Toasters,
Hoover,
Buzzcocks,
Whodini,
Infiniti,
Harmonia,
This Heat,
Newcleus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ken Boothe,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
Tommy Roe,
Roger Hodgson,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Birthday Party,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang On A Can,
Aaron Thompson,
Duran Duran,
The Dead C,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lungfish,
Massinfluence,
The Velvet Underground,
Don Cherry,
Arcadia,
The Index,
Mo-Dettes,
Harry Pussy,
Inner City,
Scion,
Piero Umiliani,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yaz,
Minutemen,
Mars,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fall,
R.M.O.,
Deadbeat,
DNA,
Agent Orange,
Alton Ellis,
The Walker Brothers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
DJ Style,
Slave,
Bad Manners,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Symarip,
Qualms,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.