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 Lesotho and from Lagos.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Man Parrish to the jazz 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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator 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 synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Rufus Thomas,
Desert Stars,
Agent Orange,
Ultimate Spinach,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eden Ahbez,
Sarah Menescal,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dave Clark Five,
Niagra,
Peter & Gordon,
Graham Central Station,
Aloha Tigers,
Stetsasonic,
Bob Dylan,
The Tremeloes,
June of 44,
Soul II Soul,
The Sonics,
Television,
Tears for Fears,
The Evens,
Public Image Ltd.,
Parry Music,
Pagans,
Dave Gahan,
Mo-Dettes,
Scratch Acid,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Swans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Half Japanese,
Harry Pussy,
Boogie Down Productions,
F. McDonald,
Kaleidoscope,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sex Pistols,
Whodini,
Electric Prunes,
Janne Schatter,
The United States of America,
Dark Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jawbox,
Heaven 17,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Con Funk Shun,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
LL Cool J,
Make Up,
Maurizio,
the Sonics,
Porter Ricks,
Roxette,
the Swans,
Marmalade,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.