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 Antigua and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Roy Ayers to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Marmalade,
48th St. Collective,
Clear Light,
The Blackbyrds,
Deakin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Amazonics,
The Monks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ossler,
Gang Starr,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric B and Rakim,
K-Klass,
Wolf Eyes,
Mission of Burma,
Masters at Work,
Soft Machine,
Ituana,
Derrick Morgan,
ABC,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Goldenarms,
Royal Trux,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dark Day,
Aloha Tigers,
Crooked Eye,
Bush Tetras,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Count Five,
Aaron Thompson,
Siglo XX,
Don Cherry,
Mandrill,
Cymande,
David Axelrod,
Interpol,
Fatback Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Dirtbombs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Young Marble Giants,
Hoover,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Duran Duran,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Minor Threat,
Funkadelic,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Red Krayola,
cv313,
One Last Wish,
OOIOO,
Anthony Braxton,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ornette Coleman,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.