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 Cyprus and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Toni Rubio to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Divine Comedy,
Silicon Teens,
Gang of Four,
The Cramps,
Sister Nancy,
48th St. Collective,
Goldenarms,
Sonny Sharrock,
Alice Coltrane,
The Last Poets,
U.S. Maple,
Byron Stingily,
Q65,
Glambeats Corp.,
Alphaville,
Gong,
Godley & Creme,
Ronan,
Echospace,
Idris Muhammad,
Loose Ends,
Sexual Harrassment,
Visage,
Jeru the Damaja,
Henry Cow,
Chrome,
The Angels of Light,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Janne Schatter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mo-Dettes,
Ludus,
Adolescents,
Smog,
The Velvet Underground,
The Motions,
Popol Vuh,
Patti Smith,
Carl Craig,
Prince Buster,
The Sisters of Mercy,
David Bowie,
Sight & Sound,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pierre Henry,
Harry Pussy,
MDC,
The Monochrome Set,
Ken Boothe,
Zero Boys,
Los Fastidios,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sex Pistols,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.