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 Slovenia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 John Holt to the techno 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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
R.M.O.,
Clear Light,
Buzzcocks,
Blossom Toes,
Average White Band,
The Gun Club,
Albert Ayler,
The Gladiators,
Mission of Burma,
The Associates,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cure,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Young Marble Giants,
Kayak,
John Cale,
The Durutti Column,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Henry Cow,
Glenn Branca,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cymande,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lightning Bolt,
Television,
Lalann,
Dark Day,
Fela Kuti,
Rotary Connection,
Slave,
Inner City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
Moss Icon,
A Certain Ratio,
PIL,
Pulsallama,
Mantronix,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dennis Brown,
Sällskapet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Enemy,
Depeche Mode,
Tears for Fears,
Quantec,
Khruangbin,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The United States of America,
Black Bananas,
Harmonia,
Crash Course in Science,
Sparks,
L. Decosne,
Eurythmics,
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.