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 United Kingdom and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Standells to the disco 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
The New Christs,
Sixth Finger,
Alphaville,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mummies,
the Bar-Kays,
Soul Sonic Force,
PIL,
kango's stein massive,
The Angels of Light,
Rapeman,
Ituana,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Q and Not U,
The American Breed,
Bronski Beat,
Brick,
Hot Snakes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Isaac Hayes,
The Move,
Arab on Radar,
Judy Mowatt,
John Holt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
B.T. Express,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Hill,
Ronan,
The Gories,
Cal Tjader,
Dawn Penn,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Todd Rundgren,
ABC,
Pylon,
Unwound,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
AZ,
Soul II Soul,
Dennis Brown,
Buzzcocks,
Joe Finger,
Peter and Kerry,
Oneida,
Von Mondo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Outsiders,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
H. Thieme,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hoover,
Black Flag,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Normal,
Sunsets and Hearts,
DNA,
K-Klass,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Zero Boys,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.