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 Poland and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 F. McDonald to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
The Golliwogs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Starr,
Drexciya,
The Gap Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ronan,
Patti Smith,
Bill Near,
The Fuzztones,
Darondo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Moon,
Pussy Galore,
Negative Approach,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marc Almond,
Lower 48,
Banda Bassotti,
Heaven 17,
Erasure,
The Residents,
The Mojo Men,
Neu!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harry Pussy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Vogues,
Colin Newman,
Rakim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The United States of America,
The Monochrome Set,
Unrelated Segments,
Todd Rundgren,
the Bar-Kays,
Susan Cadogan,
This Heat,
Derrick May,
The Gun Club,
Arthur Verocai,
Urselle,
Roxy Music,
Harpers Bizarre,
Outsiders,
Alison Limerick,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cymande,
Alphaville,
Inner City,
Brothers Johnson,
Amon Düül,
New Age Steppers,
Jawbox,
The Victims,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.