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 Malawi and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Newcleus to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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?
The Offenders,
Cybotron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Porter Ricks,
The Cramps,
Mr. Review,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
The Divine Comedy,
The United States of America,
a-ha,
Matthew Halsall,
The Residents,
Black Moon,
Anthony Braxton,
Icehouse,
CMW,
The Slits,
The Happenings,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
PIL,
Jerry's Kids,
John Coltrane,
The Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Malaria!,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Josef K,
Pulsallama,
Oblivians,
MC5,
Jesper Dahlback,
Quando Quango,
Althea and Donna,
Circle Jerks,
Absolute Body Control,
Warsaw,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marine Girls,
Quantec,
Boz Scaggs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oneida,
R.M.O.,
Swell Maps,
Whodini,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Remains,
Procol Harum,
Brass Construction,
E-Dancer,
Technova,
the Soft Cell,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Pus,
The Associates,
Jacques Brel,
The Fuzztones,
The Kinks,
Barry Ungar,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.