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 Madagascar and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Human League to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare 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 organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Donald Byrd,
AZ,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Josef K,
Agent Orange,
ABC,
Can,
Talk Talk,
The Real Kids,
Judy Mowatt,
The Litter,
Minor Threat,
Laurel Aitken,
Excepter,
Avey Tare,
Gang Green,
Fat Boys,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Donny Hathaway,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magma,
David Bowie,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pantytec,
Tim Buckley,
the Germs,
These Immortal Souls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Con Funk Shun,
48th St. Collective,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Desert Stars,
Alton Ellis,
Bauhaus,
The Music Machine,
Sonic Youth,
Cal Tjader,
Pere Ubu,
Ohio Players,
Erykah Badu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Max Romeo,
Rakim,
Chris & Cosey,
The Dirtbombs,
Negative Approach,
the Human League,
The Index,
Neu!,
Maleditus Sound,
Patti Smith,
Eli Mardock,
Aswad,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.