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 Antigua and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television 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 Arab on Radar to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb 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 spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Robert Hood,
The Kinks,
Groovy Waters,
Sam Rivers,
Pagans,
John Lydon,
Minutemen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Altered Images,
Cymande,
Marc Almond,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
PIL,
10cc,
The Blues Magoos,
Organ,
the Association,
Oneida,
Half Japanese,
Clear Light,
Amon Düül II,
The Young Rascals,
Sun Ra,
Eli Mardock,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tubeway Army,
Leonard Cohen,
The Vogues,
a-ha,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harmonia,
Lou Christie,
Freddie Wadling,
Theoretical Girls,
Darondo,
A Certain Ratio,
H. Thieme,
Von Mondo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Carl Craig,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Ronan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
LL Cool J,
Heaven 17,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
Quando Quango,
Barrington Levy,
Massinfluence,
Fear,
Spoonie Gee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.