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 Norway and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar 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 Faraquet to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds 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 spring reverb 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 All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
cv313,
Desert Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Sherman,
Ten City,
Amazonics,
Lindisfarne,
David Axelrod,
Sugar Minott,
Minor Threat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rapeman,
The Invisible,
Basic Channel,
Wasted Youth,
A Certain Ratio,
The Buckinghams,
John Coltrane,
Dark Day,
Quando Quango,
Pierre Henry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Matthew Halsall,
The Grass Roots,
The Star Department,
The Sonics,
Monks,
Cameo,
David McCallum,
Goldenarms,
Aloha Tigers,
Rites of Spring,
Con Funk Shun,
Agent Orange,
Newcleus,
Gong,
Bronski Beat,
Sister Nancy,
Wally Richardson,
Soul II Soul,
Khruangbin,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scientists,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
Hardrive,
Bauhaus,
the Sonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cymande,
Lyres,
Unwound,
Supertramp,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric B and Rakim,
Niagra,
The Fugs,
Pussy Galore,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.