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 Honduras and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Robert Görl to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Blancmange,
DNA,
Carl Craig,
Kurtis Blow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sight & Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bill Wells,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
FM Einheit,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Animal Collective,
Procol Harum,
La Düsseldorf,
Arthur Verocai,
Chris Corsano,
The Mummies,
Con Funk Shun,
Ohio Players,
Can,
Second Layer,
Rod Modell,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fela Kuti,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swell Maps,
Colin Newman,
Ronan,
Don Cherry,
Eric Dolphy,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Das Ding,
Unrelated Segments,
Y Pants,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Copeland,
the Slits,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Germs,
Groovy Waters,
OOIOO,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Index,
Sound Behaviour,
KRS-One,
One Last Wish,
Newcleus,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.