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 Estonia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Stetsasonic to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin 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 guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
CMW,
Howard Jones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
X-101,
Masters at Work,
Al Stewart,
Symarip,
Jeru the Damaja,
Technova,
E-Dancer,
World's Most,
Darondo,
The Offenders,
Joyce Sims,
Inner City,
The Star Department,
Man Parrish,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Flag,
Faraquet,
Spandau Ballet,
Talk Talk,
Alice Coltrane,
The Electric Prunes,
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
The Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
Marcia Griffiths,
DJ Sneak,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mummies,
The Martian,
The Young Rascals,
The Vogues,
Angry Samoans,
Marvin Gaye,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wasted Youth,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Trojans,
Letta Mbulu,
Bang On A Can,
Fatback Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Toni Rubio,
Glenn Branca,
The Toasters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gabor Szabo,
U.S. Maple,
Yellowson,
Yaz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Angels of Light,
The Pretty Things,
The Names,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.