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 Dominica and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba 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 Heaven 17 to the crunk 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris Corsano record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Association,
Pagans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
E-Dancer,
Severed Heads,
Royal Trux,
Angry Samoans,
The Moody Blues,
the Bar-Kays,
Basic Channel,
The Dirtbombs,
Camouflage,
Duran Duran,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wolf Eyes,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soulsonic Force,
The Wake,
the Fania All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
Harmonia,
Marshall Jefferson,
Don Cherry,
Lyres,
Dorothy Ashby,
Zero Boys,
Colin Newman,
B.T. Express,
Neil Young,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joensuu 1685,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Graham Central Station,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pantytec,
Ludus,
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
Aural Exciters,
Roxy Music,
Guru Guru,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Moleskins,
10cc,
Blancmange,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dawn Penn,
Bizarre Inc.,
Youth Brigade,
Sight & Sound,
F. McDonald,
Crispy Ambulance,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Gladiators,
Rod Modell,
John Coltrane,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.