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 Malta and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Television Personalities to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Suicide,
48th St. Collective,
Boredoms,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Evens,
Dark Day,
Big Daddy Kane,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ludus,
MC5,
Trumans Water,
Nick Fraelich,
Intrusion,
David Axelrod,
New Age Steppers,
Josef K,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kool Moe Dee,
Maurizio,
Derrick May,
Adolescents,
Fad Gadget,
K-Klass,
The Gladiators,
Ohio Players,
These Immortal Souls,
Moby Grape,
Cheater Slicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
China Crisis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cowsills,
Kurtis Blow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mary Jane Girls,
Swell Maps,
Ice-T,
Gang Starr,
Fear,
Massinfluence,
The Kinks,
Eurythmics,
DNA,
Cybotron,
John Holt,
Loose Ends,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
John Cale,
The Invisible,
Newcleus,
Youth Brigade,
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.