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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Slits to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sam Rivers,
Stereo Dub,
Cluster,
The Count Five,
Bobby Byrd,
Das Ding,
Cecil Taylor,
Rufus Thomas,
Maurizio,
The Litter,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Halsall,
Pantytec,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Beau Brummels,
The New Christs,
The Buckinghams,
The Dirtbombs,
Sarah Menescal,
John Foxx,
Aloha Tigers,
Eden Ahbez,
Fatback Band,
Procol Harum,
Dual Sessions,
Harmonia,
Bauhaus,
Marine Girls,
Minutemen,
the Sonics,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Skatalites,
One Last Wish,
B.T. Express,
Q and Not U,
The Busters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Con Funk Shun,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pussy Galore,
Mandrill,
Chris Corsano,
Negative Approach,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Trojans,
The Victims,
Scott Walker,
The Raincoats,
Johnny Clarke,
Livin' Joy,
In Retrospect,
Brand Nubian,
Delta 5,
Judy Mowatt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Suicide,
The Gap Band,
Duran Duran,
The Motions,
The Mojo Men,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.