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 Belgium and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mars to the techno 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound 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 a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Vainqueur,
Kurtis Blow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lower 48,
Skaos,
The Grass Roots,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Inner City,
The Slits,
Donald Byrd,
Moss Icon,
La Düsseldorf,
Crash Course in Science,
Jerry's Kids,
Andrew Hill,
Albert Ayler,
Lightning Bolt,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lindisfarne,
Slick Rick,
The Selecter,
MC5,
Gang Gang Dance,
New York Dolls,
The Beau Brummels,
The Kinks,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barrington Levy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gong,
Grauzone,
Bluetip,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monks,
Jawbox,
The Sonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nik Kershaw,
MDC,
The Dead C,
The Electric Prunes,
Qualms,
Kas Product,
Reagan Youth,
Curtis Mayfield,
Buzzcocks,
Roxy Music,
The Flesh Eaters,
Popol Vuh,
Iggy Pop,
Bush Tetras,
Tom Boy,
Leonard Cohen,
Rod Modell,
The American Breed,
Scientists,
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.