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 Antigua and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eve St. Jones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron 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 harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Count Five,
New York Dolls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Moby Grape,
KRS-One,
Graham Central Station,
Little Man,
Flipper,
X-101,
Rites of Spring,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Duran Duran,
Newcleus,
Junior Murvin,
the Sonics,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Half Japanese,
Gang Green,
Byron Stingily,
Brothers Johnson,
The Mojo Men,
Joey Negro,
Dark Day,
The Wake,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Clarke,
Bauhaus,
Harry Pussy,
James White and The Blacks,
Ten City,
Magma,
Unrelated Segments,
Grandmaster Flash,
Livin' Joy,
Minny Pops,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Wally Richardson,
Panda Bear,
Stetsasonic,
The Move,
Shoche,
Lower 48,
Zero Boys,
Sound Behaviour,
The Trojans,
New Order,
Heaven 17,
the Human League,
MDC,
Radio Birdman,
Ponytail,
Throbbing Gristle,
Laurel Aitken,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dawn Penn,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.