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 Paraguay and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 OOIOO to the crunk 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a mellotron 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 clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Blake Baxter,
Pulsallama,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kenny Larkin,
Aural Exciters,
48th St. Collective,
B.T. Express,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Agent Orange,
The Birthday Party,
Procol Harum,
Slave,
Jeff Lynne,
The Walker Brothers,
Technova,
The Gun Club,
Gong,
Kurtis Blow,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
EPMD,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Y Pants,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Can,
Kayak,
The Motions,
Skaos,
The Blackbyrds,
Eve St. Jones,
Das Ding,
The Flesh Eaters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Unrelated Segments,
Girls At Our Best!,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
Television,
Faraquet,
Ronan,
Howard Jones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
One Last Wish,
Harry Pussy,
Pole,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ornette Coleman,
Todd Terry,
Gang of Four,
Monolake,
Negative Approach,
Inner City,
Monks,
Eli Mardock,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
Sarah Menescal,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.