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 Papua New Guinea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Sex Pistols to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
The Invisible,
The Gun Club,
D'Angelo,
Aswad,
Moss Icon,
Unrelated Segments,
Intrusion,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pierre Henry,
James White and The Blacks,
Thee Headcoats,
8 Eyed Spy,
Underground Resistance,
Joy Division,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Clear Light,
Roxy Music,
The Doors,
Parry Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Banda Bassotti,
Brand Nubian,
Alton Ellis,
Henry Cow,
B.T. Express,
Sparks,
Trumans Water,
Lungfish,
Bush Tetras,
Malaria!,
John Lydon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magazine,
Pagans,
Roger Hodgson,
Al Stewart,
Ituana,
Soft Cell,
Gong,
The Slackers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Television,
X-Ray Spex,
Icehouse,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ronan,
Main Source,
Charles Mingus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lucky Dragons,
Todd Terry,
Surgeon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Deepchord,
The Offenders,
Japan,
Amon Düül II,
Nick Fraelich,
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.