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 El Salvador and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 World's Most to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes 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 snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Parry Music,
Lungfish,
Television Personalities,
Tubeway Army,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Gang Green,
Frankie Knuckles,
ABBA,
the Bar-Kays,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bronski Beat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Technova,
The Black Dice,
Grey Daturas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rekid,
Unrelated Segments,
The Evens,
F. McDonald,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Second Layer,
Organ,
Slave,
Buzzcocks,
The Blues Magoos,
Minor Threat,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ice-T,
Fat Boys,
Alice Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
Scientists,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crash Course in Science,
Audionom,
Outsiders,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mad Mike,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Womack,
Jerry's Kids,
Steve Hackett,
Monolake,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Warsaw,
Bauhaus,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Faraquet,
Pole,
the Association,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Max Romeo,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.