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 Kazakhstan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Arthur Verocai to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Deakin,
Malaria!,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Metal Thangz,
Kaleidoscope,
The J.B.'s,
Wolf Eyes,
Erasure,
Lakeside,
Mr. Review,
Schoolly D,
Black Flag,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tim Buckley,
Mars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Saccharine Trust,
The Kinks,
48th St. Collective,
Spandau Ballet,
Joyce Sims,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scan 7,
Scratch Acid,
OOIOO,
Mandrill,
Youth Brigade,
Ronnie Foster,
Talk Talk,
Tom Boy,
Blossom Toes,
Duran Duran,
ABC,
MC5,
Theoretical Girls,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fatback Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Saints,
Mantronix,
John Coltrane,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jimmy McGriff,
New York Dolls,
Freddie Wadling,
Harpers Bizarre,
Popol Vuh,
Second Layer,
Brick,
Minor Threat,
The Knickerbockers,
Khruangbin,
The Moleskins,
Sällskapet,
The Golliwogs,
Desert Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
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.