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 Portugal and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
Visage,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cecil Taylor,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Boredoms,
Organ,
Q65,
Prince Buster,
Joe Finger,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lucky Dragons,
Skaos,
Nirvana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ponytail,
Roxette,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Neon Judgement,
Michelle Simonal,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rapeman,
Gastr Del Sol,
Make Up,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Laurel Aitken,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fad Gadget,
Dead Boys,
Grauzone,
Aural Exciters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Electric Light Orchestra,
DNA,
Andrew Hill,
James White and The Blacks,
Eurythmics,
Section 25,
LL Cool J,
Unrelated Segments,
The Divine Comedy,
the Association,
Altered Images,
Marmalade,
Dorothy Ashby,
8 Eyed Spy,
Darondo,
Minutemen,
John Coltrane,
Chrome,
Tears for Fears,
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.