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 Kosovo and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kerrie Biddell to the crunk 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Barrington Levy,
Derrick May,
Charles Mingus,
Nils Olav,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Alphaville,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Duran Duran,
Nik Kershaw,
Camouflage,
Joyce Sims,
Zapp,
Brass Construction,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scientists,
Nico,
Pere Ubu,
Clear Light,
Symarip,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mark Hollis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Electric Prunes,
The Durutti Column,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
F. McDonald,
Surgeon,
The Vogues,
Jeff Lynne,
The Young Rascals,
Stiv Bators,
Jacques Brel,
Danielle Patucci,
Drive Like Jehu,
Matthew Bourne,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
Anakelly,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Max Romeo,
Porter Ricks,
Aural Exciters,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
The Busters,
Pylon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sight & Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dead Boys,
Tommy Roe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Bananas,
The Mummies,
Robert Hood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Kerri Chandler,
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.