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 San Marino and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eli Mardock to the dance 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator 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 sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
The Star Department,
Popol Vuh,
Drive Like Jehu,
Zapp,
Altered Images,
Joyce Sims,
Fad Gadget,
Harry Pussy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mars,
The Move,
The Leaves,
Faraquet,
KRS-One,
Eric Dolphy,
Y Pants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris Corsano,
Los Fastidios,
X-Ray Spex,
Underground Resistance,
Monolake,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The United States of America,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Victims,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Human League,
The Buckinghams,
The Zeros,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scratch Acid,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
Eric Copeland,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Severed Heads,
World's Most,
Tubeway Army,
the Slits,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Byrd,
H. Thieme,
Porter Ricks,
Sight & Sound,
Yaz,
Rapeman,
the Association,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
Sixth Finger,
Heaven 17,
Joey Negro,
Dennis Brown,
K-Klass,
Ronan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Royal Trux,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.