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 India and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Black Bananas to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ 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 organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Y Pants,
Fluxion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jawbox,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fugazi,
the Slits,
Bob Dylan,
the Sonics,
Jandek,
Albert Ayler,
Can,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Robert Hood,
Janne Schatter,
The Count Five,
Erasure,
Terry Callier,
Radiopuhelimet,
Make Up,
Mandrill,
Easy Going,
Gong,
Smog,
The Index,
Reuben Wilson,
Joy Division,
JFA,
Soulsonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thee Headcoats,
Suburban Knight,
Roy Ayers,
Rakim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Aural Exciters,
Connie Case,
Theoretical Girls,
LL Cool J,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Silicon Teens,
Warsaw,
Faraquet,
Ohio Players,
Faust,
The Wake,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Index,
Scrapy,
Morten Harket,
DNA,
Althea and Donna,
Magazine,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.