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 Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Pet Shop Boys to the electroclash 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
The Knickerbockers,
Minnie Riperton,
LL Cool J,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Raincoats,
The Divine Comedy,
Joe Finger,
Sugar Minott,
Pantaleimon,
Cluster,
Popol Vuh,
The Searchers,
Bauhaus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eve St. Jones,
The Residents,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Germs,
James White and The Blacks,
The Star Department,
Adolescents,
Darondo,
Graham Central Station,
Jeff Mills,
Sister Nancy,
the Soft Cell,
D'Angelo,
Index,
The Selecter,
Minor Threat,
Porter Ricks,
Black Moon,
Brick,
Main Source,
Davy DMX,
Boogie Down Productions,
Trumans Water,
The Happenings,
Faraquet,
Basic Channel,
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
the Sonics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Livin' Joy,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
Fatback Band,
Niagra,
Robert Hood,
Goldenarms,
Marmalade,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pussy Galore,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Harry Pussy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
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.