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 Iceland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar 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 mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
the Normal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Thompson Twins,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Second Layer,
Circle Jerks,
Vainqueur,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Busters,
Vladislav Delay,
The Searchers,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Durutti Column,
The Martian,
Cal Tjader,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Unwound,
OOIOO,
The Fortunes,
Juan Atkins,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
Kenny Larkin,
Theoretical Girls,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Oblivians,
Janne Schatter,
Althea and Donna,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Motions,
Bootsy Collins,
Scientists,
Todd Rundgren,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bill Wells,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Trumans Water,
Traffic Nightmare,
Malaria!,
Neu!,
The Fall,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Velvet Underground,
The Saints,
Derrick Morgan,
The Index,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Newcleus,
Das Ding,
Reagan Youth,
Jeff Lynne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Josef K,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Blossom Toes,
Audionom,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.