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 Sudan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Max Romeo to the techno 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer 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 spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
A Certain Ratio,
ABBA,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Five Americans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Infiniti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang Green,
Supertramp,
Bob Dylan,
The J.B.'s,
Pharoah Sanders,
Vladislav Delay,
Jacques Brel,
Fifty Foot Hose,
F. McDonald,
Mars,
The Toasters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
X-102,
Lalann,
Bauhaus,
Bronski Beat,
Rites of Spring,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gong,
Lou Christie,
New Age Steppers,
Flash Fearless,
Yellowson,
Pulsallama,
Los Fastidios,
U.S. Maple,
Negative Approach,
The Neon Judgement,
Wasted Youth,
Grey Daturas,
Mad Mike,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Offenders,
Sarah Menescal,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boz Scaggs,
Rekid,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lalo Schifrin,
Absolute Body Control,
Radio Birdman,
The Mojo Men,
Tim Buckley,
AZ,
Sight & Sound,
Wire,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.