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 Ukraine and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 John Holt to the jazz 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 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 linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Eden Ahbez,
The Beau Brummels,
Pussy Galore,
Fatback Band,
the Association,
Minny Pops,
Faust,
Blossom Toes,
The Slits,
Marc Almond,
Half Japanese,
Panda Bear,
Jandek,
The Slackers,
Mad Mike,
Letta Mbulu,
Josef K,
Radiohead,
The Leaves,
Rufus Thomas,
Fugazi,
The Gladiators,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bluetip,
James White and The Blacks,
Index,
The Last Poets,
The Doobie Brothers,
Audionom,
Monks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Massinfluence,
Joey Negro,
ABBA,
The Tremeloes,
Yazoo,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boz Scaggs,
Camouflage,
In Retrospect,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nas,
Excepter,
Peter and Kerry,
Tres Demented,
Swell Maps,
Ronnie Foster,
Tomorrow,
Zapp,
Technova,
Siglo XX,
Bob Dylan,
The Electric Prunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.