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 Finland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scrapy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator 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 organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
E-Dancer,
Archie Shepp,
Aaron Thompson,
John Cale,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Drexciya,
DNA,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Echospace,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Porter Ricks,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Pus,
Lungfish,
Deepchord,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Youth Brigade,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kayak,
Joe Finger,
Roxette,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Au Pairs,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
Amon Düül,
The Searchers,
Black Flag,
Desert Stars,
The Golliwogs,
Pierre Henry,
Chrome,
Maurizio,
Circle Jerks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pagans,
Rod Modell,
Cal Tjader,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Gong,
The Remains,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dead Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Moss Icon,
Young Marble Giants,
Bush Tetras,
Ituana,
Cecil Taylor,
Matthew Bourne,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.