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 Montenegro and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joe Finger to the techno 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord 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?
Toni Rubio,
Rites of Spring,
Fluxion,
Can,
Joey Negro,
David McCallum,
EPMD,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pagans,
The Knickerbockers,
Suicide,
Zapp,
Eden Ahbez,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hashim,
Juan Atkins,
Q and Not U,
The Standells,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick May,
The Stooges,
Circle Jerks,
Motorama,
The Smiths,
Scrapy,
Ossler,
Joe Smooth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Unrelated Segments,
Icehouse,
Hoover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Wyatt,
CMW,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fire Engines,
B.T. Express,
Marmalade,
Reagan Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Peter & Gordon,
Radio Birdman,
The Gladiators,
Bauhaus,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
The Leaves,
Arcadia,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Public Image Ltd.,
Country Teasers,
Babytalk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aswad,
The Gories,
Warren Ellis,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.