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 Turkey and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Absolute Body Control to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonny Sharrock,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
Nirvana,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Misunderstood,
Glenn Branca,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mad Mike,
Deakin,
John Cale,
The Knickerbockers,
Agent Orange,
Simply Red,
Pole,
Subhumans,
Parry Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Swans,
Oblivians,
The Gladiators,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang of Four,
Eurythmics,
Ronan,
The Residents,
The Durutti Column,
Kayak,
Young Marble Giants,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gap Band,
The Slackers,
Charles Mingus,
Babytalk,
Hoover,
Panda Bear,
Suburban Knight,
China Crisis,
Electric Prunes,
Aaron Thompson,
John Holt,
KRS-One,
ABC,
Silicon Teens,
Soft Cell,
Absolute Body Control,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
Tommy Roe,
Pantytec,
Popol Vuh,
Q65,
Youth Brigade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bobby Sherman,
Dead Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir, London Community Gospel Choir.
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.