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 Hungary and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Can to the techno 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator 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 rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Sex Pistols,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Index,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Shadows of Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Zeros,
Banda Bassotti,
Jawbox,
Severed Heads,
the Normal,
Monks,
The Music Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The New Christs,
Tres Demented,
Pet Shop Boys,
Symarip,
Magma,
Radiohead,
Masters at Work,
The Cure,
The Happenings,
Magazine,
Gichy Dan,
Roger Hodgson,
Judy Mowatt,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Trojans,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Durutti Column,
Brand Nubian,
The Blues Magoos,
Connie Case,
Duran Duran,
Minor Threat,
Unwound,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Clarke,
Morten Harket,
Todd Rundgren,
One Last Wish,
James White and The Blacks,
Faraquet,
Cluster,
Lucky Dragons,
The Names,
CMW,
Little Man,
Mark Hollis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Divine Comedy,
Ossler,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Byrd,
Al Stewart,
Underground Resistance,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.