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 Paraguay and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jesper Dahlback 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ 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 spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Alice Coltrane,
Soul II Soul,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Selecter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Swans,
The Gories,
E-Dancer,
Reagan Youth,
Cymande,
Anakelly,
The Moleskins,
Lightning Bolt,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Sherman,
The Index,
The Skatalites,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Vogues,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joe Finger,
Brand Nubian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Andrew Hill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Starr,
Godley & Creme,
Marvin Gaye,
Lou Reed,
Warsaw,
Blancmange,
Aaron Thompson,
Index,
the Association,
48th St. Collective,
The Happenings,
Yusef Lateef,
Harry Pussy,
La Düsseldorf,
Q and Not U,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
Depeche Mode,
Yaz,
Yellowson,
Television,
The Sonics,
Theoretical Girls,
Technova,
Throbbing Gristle,
Malaria!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Au Pairs,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Human League,
Gabor Szabo,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.