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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Banda Bassotti to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a mellotron 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 harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Lungfish,
Donald Byrd,
Dennis Brown,
Joyce Sims,
John Coltrane,
Pantaleimon,
Yusef Lateef,
Tears for Fears,
Wally Richardson,
Sandy B,
Fear,
Tommy Roe,
Bootsy Collins,
Cal Tjader,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jacob Miller,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mo-Dettes,
Idris Muhammad,
Toni Rubio,
Kayak,
Deakin,
Freddie Wadling,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kurtis Blow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
UT,
The Happenings,
H. Thieme,
Skriet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gories,
Lou Christie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crime,
Hot Snakes,
World's Most,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
The Five Americans,
Stiv Bators,
Slick Rick,
Juan Atkins,
Warren Ellis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heaven 17,
Scion,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Moon,
Michelle Simonal,
Anakelly,
Faraquet,
Gong,
The Blackbyrds,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.