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 Albania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Cheater Slicks 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
LL Cool J,
Dark Day,
Isaac Hayes,
The Evens,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Starr,
the Bar-Kays,
H. Thieme,
Quantec,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Alphaville,
Agitation Free,
Bizarre Inc.,
Robert Wyatt,
Junior Murvin,
Q65,
The Offenders,
Urselle,
Reagan Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jerry's Kids,
Angry Samoans,
DJ Sneak,
Dead Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Ludus,
Scott Walker,
Tears for Fears,
Andrew Hill,
Jimmy McGriff,
Boredoms,
Shoche,
10cc,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crooked Eye,
Nirvana,
Bronski Beat,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Leaves,
Traffic Nightmare,
Thompson Twins,
Rekid,
Amon Düül,
Yaz,
Erasure,
The Pretty Things,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Supertramp,
Jeff Lynne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Hardrive,
Josef K,
Quadrant,
Procol Harum,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fugs,
FM Einheit,
One Last Wish,
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.