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 Oman and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Wake to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum 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 clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Joe Finger,
Matthew Bourne,
Duran Duran,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roxy Music,
The Leaves,
Little Man,
Blake Baxter,
Donny Hathaway,
Howard Jones,
The Trojans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Count Five,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Pus,
The Gun Club,
KRS-One,
The Zeros,
Sex Pistols,
The Kinks,
Cymande,
X-102,
The Move,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brothers Johnson,
Skarface,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Youth Brigade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Pretty Things,
Nas,
Boz Scaggs,
Arthur Verocai,
Metal Thangz,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Residents,
U.S. Maple,
Gabor Szabo,
Moby Grape,
R.M.O.,
Fatback Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
June Days,
The Fortunes,
T.S.O.L.,
Toni Rubio,
The Raincoats,
Jimmy McGriff,
Model 500,
Yaz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ornette Coleman,
LL Cool J,
Rekid,
D'Angelo,
The Monks,
Anthony Braxton,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.