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 Bangladesh and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Public Enemy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare 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 guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Slave,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bush Tetras,
The Techniques,
The Count Five,
Model 500,
Althea and Donna,
Cheater Slicks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tommy Roe,
The Selecter,
The United States of America,
Maleditus Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Bowie,
Smog,
Groovy Waters,
Intrusion,
Scratch Acid,
Quadrant,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultravox,
Cluster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fugazi,
The Gun Club,
JFA,
John Lydon,
Amazonics,
Sam Rivers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roger Hodgson,
The J.B.'s,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dave Gahan,
Funkadelic,
Shuggie Otis,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cowsills,
DJ Sneak,
Y Pants,
Buzzcocks,
Don Cherry,
Marmalade,
Gang of Four,
Altered Images,
Clear Light,
Qualms,
Sound Behaviour,
Fad Gadget,
Thompson Twins,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scientists,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wings,
X-Ray Spex,
the Association,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Idris Muhammad,
Livin' Joy,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.