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 Nauru and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a clarinet and a sitar 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 snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Porter Ricks,
Robert Hood,
The Monochrome Set,
Donald Byrd,
Arcadia,
Jerry's Kids,
Stetsasonic,
Wire,
Section 25,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scratch Acid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sällskapet,
Pulsallama,
Bauhaus,
Sight & Sound,
Roxette,
Spoonie Gee,
Television Personalities,
Mad Mike,
Gerry Rafferty,
Depeche Mode,
The Durutti Column,
Pagans,
L. Decosne,
Adolescents,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tomorrow,
John Cale,
Susan Cadogan,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Smiths,
Rosa Yemen,
Hasil Adkins,
The Searchers,
D'Angelo,
Tubeway Army,
The Slackers,
The Happenings,
Young Marble Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Carl Craig,
The Raincoats,
Mandrill,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Loose Ends,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Subhumans,
The Velvet Underground,
Brass Construction,
Quando Quango,
Khruangbin,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
T. Rex,
Arthur Verocai,
Average White Band,
Smog,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.