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 Mauritania and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gang of Four to the disco 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Icehouse,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The New Christs,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harry Pussy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pantaleimon,
The Blues Magoos,
Half Japanese,
MC5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Star Department,
Mantronix,
Outsiders,
EPMD,
The Electric Prunes,
Yusef Lateef,
Cluster,
The Pretty Things,
Tubeway Army,
Jandek,
Andrew Hill,
The Monochrome Set,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fall,
The United States of America,
48th St. Collective,
The Seeds,
Inner City,
Agent Orange,
The Move,
John Lydon,
Chris Corsano,
Section 25,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pagans,
cv313,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Underground Resistance,
Black Pus,
The Vogues,
Mission of Burma,
Pharoah Sanders,
Con Funk Shun,
Colin Newman,
Crooked Eye,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Angels of Light,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bush Tetras,
Camouflage,
Rites of Spring,
Urselle,
The Trojans,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mars,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.