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 Gambia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 David Bowie to the rock 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator 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 All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
U.S. Maple,
Maurizio,
Barbara Tucker,
Delta 5,
Brass Construction,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Amon Düül,
The Slackers,
Drexciya,
These Immortal Souls,
Ken Boothe,
Nick Fraelich,
Banda Bassotti,
Stiv Bators,
The Move,
Malaria!,
Marvin Gaye,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Vogues,
Derrick May,
Average White Band,
Electric Prunes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang Green,
Ponytail,
Public Enemy,
Roger Hodgson,
Mr. Review,
Jawbox,
Faraquet,
The Knickerbockers,
Sarah Menescal,
The Index,
Aaron Thompson,
Qualms,
Byron Stingily,
Archie Shepp,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tears for Fears,
Kenny Larkin,
Amazonics,
Black Pus,
The Happenings,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
Gabor Szabo,
Lalann,
Fat Boys,
Arcadia,
Skaos,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
This Heat,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Adolescents,
Crooked Eye,
Reagan Youth,
Masters at Work,
Lower 48,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.