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 Congo and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar 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 chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Christie,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bush Tetras,
Kaleidoscope,
Carl Craig,
Sun Ra,
Moebius,
Ten City,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bob Dylan,
Roxy Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
A Flock of Seagulls,
China Crisis,
Faust,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eden Ahbez,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Franke,
Mark Hollis,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Standells,
Little Man,
Stiv Bators,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Lungfish,
Josef K,
The Trojans,
Can,
Stereo Dub,
Babytalk,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Hutcherson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Oneida,
Theoretical Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
Cal Tjader,
Public Image Ltd.,
Robert Hood,
Flipper,
The Birthday Party,
The Skatalites,
T. Rex,
OOIOO,
the Association,
Interpol,
Black Moon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oblivians,
Matthew Bourne,
The Offenders,
Sugar Minott,
Joy Division,
Funkadelic,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.