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 Djibouti and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Unwound to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba 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 sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Sandy B,
Parry Music,
New Age Steppers,
Sarah Menescal,
EPMD,
Pylon,
The Litter,
Altered Images,
Jeff Lynne,
Gichy Dan,
Dave Gahan,
Roxy Music,
Brass Construction,
Agitation Free,
Davy DMX,
Magma,
Erasure,
The Electric Prunes,
Marvin Gaye,
Hasil Adkins,
Second Layer,
The Tremeloes,
Graham Central Station,
Slave,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Neon Judgement,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nirvana,
Outsiders,
LL Cool J,
Chris & Cosey,
John Coltrane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grey Daturas,
Barbara Tucker,
Dead Boys,
Make Up,
Ossler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Cure,
Ultravox,
The Wake,
Brick,
Gang of Four,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Halsall,
Vainqueur,
Babytalk,
Monolake,
Lou Christie,
Mark Hollis,
Stockholm Monsters,
Radiopuhelimet,
June of 44,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.