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 Brunei and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Outsiders to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb 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 spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Panda Bear,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Faust,
The Slackers,
Procol Harum,
Joy Division,
Thompson Twins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
B.T. Express,
Oneida,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Seeds,
EPMD,
The Evens,
Echospace,
Fluxion,
Johnny Clarke,
Bill Wells,
Q65,
John Coltrane,
Isaac Hayes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jawbox,
David Bowie,
Tres Demented,
Amazonics,
The Barracudas,
Pantytec,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Prince Buster,
Accadde A,
Cecil Taylor,
The Toasters,
Crispian St. Peters,
The New Christs,
Max Romeo,
Rotary Connection,
Gregory Isaacs,
Basic Channel,
Groovy Waters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Starr,
Das Ding,
Peter and Kerry,
The Fuzztones,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Human League,
Slave,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dennis Brown,
K-Klass,
The Standells,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Blossom Toes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.