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 Congo and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Albert Ayler to the disco 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Lalann,
Dawn Penn,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The New Christs,
Deakin,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeru the Damaja,
Glambeats Corp.,
Susan Cadogan,
The Index,
The Wake,
T.S.O.L.,
Eric Copeland,
Traffic Nightmare,
Supertramp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alton Ellis,
Dark Day,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Near,
Bob Dylan,
The Victims,
Darondo,
The J.B.'s,
Pantaleimon,
Ten City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Niagra,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blossom Toes,
Sällskapet,
Wasted Youth,
Organ,
These Immortal Souls,
The Buckinghams,
Moebius,
Masters at Work,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Intrusion,
Quadrant,
The Pop Group,
Jandek,
U.S. Maple,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skriet,
F. McDonald,
Gang Gang Dance,
Average White Band,
Man Parrish,
Radio Birdman,
Trumans Water,
Al Stewart,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Skarface,
LL Cool J,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.