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 United States and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 DNA 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moebius,
Sight & Sound,
David Axelrod,
Wolf Eyes,
John Foxx,
Glenn Branca,
The Detroit Cobras,
Siglo XX,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Thee Headcoats,
Sex Pistols,
Tears for Fears,
Reuben Wilson,
Flash Fearless,
Black Pus,
Peter & Gordon,
Eve St. Jones,
Minny Pops,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Move,
Khruangbin,
The Monks,
In Retrospect,
The Sound,
Flamin' Groovies,
Donald Byrd,
Don Cherry,
Fluxion,
kango's stein massive,
Alison Limerick,
Procol Harum,
FM Einheit,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quadrant,
Liliput,
Althea and Donna,
Monolake,
D'Angelo,
Barry Ungar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ten City,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mark Hollis,
The Martian,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The American Breed,
Matthew Bourne,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Index,
Crime,
Maleditus Sound,
Dawn Penn,
Spandau Ballet,
Amon Düül,
The Red Krayola,
Make Up,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.