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 San Marino and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the organ 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 The Motions to the punk 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cure,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
DJ Style,
The Moody Blues,
Das Ding,
Visage,
The Detroit Cobras,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kayak,
Gang Starr,
Porter Ricks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Freddie Wadling,
The Modern Lovers,
The Stooges,
JFA,
Reagan Youth,
X-101,
Neu!,
Zapp,
Qualms,
The Birthday Party,
Lee Hazlewood,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cramps,
Charles Mingus,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
Maurizio,
The Durutti Column,
The Remains,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Pop Group,
Malaria!,
Talk Talk,
Youth Brigade,
The Selecter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The New Christs,
Nik Kershaw,
Althea and Donna,
Mandrill,
Section 25,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hoover,
Loose Ends,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Barry Ungar,
Make Up,
Cymande,
Kurtis Blow,
The Slackers,
Eric Dolphy,
Ronnie Foster,
Sex Pistols,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.