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 Philippines and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dave Gahan to the grunge 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crime,
The Real Kids,
The Litter,
R.M.O.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Althea and Donna,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Derrick May,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Tremeloes,
David McCallum,
Joe Smooth,
Accadde A,
Sparks,
Bang On A Can,
Fat Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Wings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABC,
The New Christs,
Radio Birdman,
Banda Bassotti,
Tomorrow,
Ludus,
Deepchord,
Dead Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers,
Pulsallama,
Newcleus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fear,
The Blues Magoos,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
Pere Ubu,
Shoche,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rakim,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Görl,
Colin Newman,
Chrome,
Lakeside,
Buzzcocks,
Laurel Aitken,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sandy B,
Reuben Wilson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.