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 Turkmenistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Radio Birdman to the grime 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
PIL,
The Smoke,
Angry Samoans,
Scientists,
Excepter,
The Zeros,
Cybotron,
Fat Boys,
ABBA,
Josef K,
The Cowsills,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bizarre Inc.,
F. McDonald,
Soul II Soul,
Khruangbin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wire,
Shoche,
A Certain Ratio,
The Wake,
Gichy Dan,
Parry Music,
The Saints,
David Bowie,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DJ Style,
Prince Buster,
The Mojo Men,
Deakin,
Lucky Dragons,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Seeds,
Simply Red,
Procol Harum,
T. Rex,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
Jawbox,
Guru Guru,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lightning Bolt,
Kenny Larkin,
Radiohead,
Harry Pussy,
Minutemen,
X-Ray Spex,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
The Monks,
Kurtis Blow,
The Gladiators,
The Walker Brothers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Offenders,
Roxette,
The Fall,
The Trojans,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.