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 Micronesia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Human League to the grime 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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare 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 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?
Malaria!,
The Raincoats,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dead Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Qualms,
Ten City,
Warsaw,
Lou Christie,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Yusef Lateef,
Scan 7,
B.T. Express,
The Doobie Brothers,
Organ,
Joe Smooth,
Henry Cow,
F. McDonald,
Piero Umiliani,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ludus,
Index,
Soft Cell,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
kango's stein massive,
The United States of America,
The Pop Group,
The Busters,
Mad Mike,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pulsallama,
CMW,
Ituana,
Wolf Eyes,
The Cowsills,
Aaron Thompson,
Radio Birdman,
Eddi Front,
Niagra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Easy Going,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jacob Miller,
Y Pants,
Warren Ellis,
Sight & Sound,
Bob Dylan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Reagan Youth,
The Dirtbombs,
Steve Hackett,
The Walker Brothers,
The Black Dice,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Harry Pussy,
The Knickerbockers,
JFA,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.