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 Mauritius and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barry Ungar,
the Swans,
The Doors,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Barracudas,
The Durutti Column,
Bush Tetras,
L. Decosne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eden Ahbez,
Crash Course in Science,
Sixth Finger,
Inner City,
Los Fastidios,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Public Enemy,
Nirvana,
The Selecter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Sherman,
Jeff Mills,
Khruangbin,
the Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
Sällskapet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Roxette,
Von Mondo,
Mandrill,
Nation of Ulysses,
Harmonia,
Delta 5,
Arab on Radar,
David Bowie,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Scratch Acid,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camouflage,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Human League,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lou Reed,
LL Cool J,
OOIOO,
The Cramps,
Theoretical Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Hashim,
The Grass Roots,
Aaron Thompson,
Hot Snakes,
Subhumans,
Prince Buster,
Bill Near,
Adolescents,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.