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 Jamaica and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sarah Menescal 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ 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 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
ABBA,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Inner City,
The Standells,
Sexual Harrassment,
Morten Harket,
Jerry's Kids,
Funky Four + One,
Fear,
X-101,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eddi Front,
DNA,
Ten City,
KRS-One,
Scrapy,
Easy Going,
Los Fastidios,
Organ,
The Slits,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Andrew Hill,
Junior Murvin,
The Zeros,
Altered Images,
Wire,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
June of 44,
Bang On A Can,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pagans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
Agitation Free,
The Doors,
Cecil Taylor,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
Alton Ellis,
Babytalk,
Lee Hazlewood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Skaos,
ABC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lou Reed,
The Smiths,
The Dead C,
Sam Rivers,
The United States of America,
Urselle,
Swell Maps,
Grandmaster Flash,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wally Richardson,
E-Dancer,
The Associates,
The Electric Prunes,
The Buckinghams,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Visage,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.