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 San Marino and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Faust to the funk 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann 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?
Electric Prunes,
Chrome,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Shoche,
Nico,
Roy Ayers,
The Fall,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Royal Trux,
AZ,
Siglo XX,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Martian,
Arthur Verocai,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rekid,
Scion,
Goldenarms,
Swell Maps,
Fela Kuti,
The Wake,
Gang Starr,
Deepchord,
Joe Smooth,
Tom Boy,
Lindisfarne,
The Vogues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tears for Fears,
Marvin Gaye,
Alice Coltrane,
Quantec,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Circle Jerks,
Icehouse,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marine Girls,
The Happenings,
Man Parrish,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Youth Brigade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jacques Brel,
Heaven 17,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Intrusion,
Lower 48,
Matthew Halsall,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sonics,
Fatback Band,
Eurythmics,
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.