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 Slovenia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Radiopuhelimet,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Easy Going,
Tommy Roe,
The Remains,
One Last Wish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yazoo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Von Mondo,
David Axelrod,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
FM Einheit,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Neu!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Second Layer,
Popol Vuh,
Sam Rivers,
Rakim,
Country Teasers,
Unrelated Segments,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers,
The Sonics,
Davy DMX,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar,
The Five Americans,
Wings,
ABBA,
Ituana,
Lalann,
Deakin,
Surgeon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wire,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gong,
Brand Nubian,
The Durutti Column,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
MDC,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Grey Daturas,
F. McDonald,
The Index,
Wolf Eyes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.