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 Macedonia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the 808 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 LL Cool J to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Ten City,
Blancmange,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gichy Dan,
Marine Girls,
The Smoke,
Pulsallama,
Mark Hollis,
The Mojo Men,
Jeff Mills,
The Fuzztones,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Sherman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bill Wells,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Roxette,
The Sound,
The Fire Engines,
the Sonics,
Guru Guru,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
The Red Krayola,
Moss Icon,
Ohio Players,
Jeru the Damaja,
Charles Mingus,
Little Man,
Minnie Riperton,
Au Pairs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grey Daturas,
X-Ray Spex,
Al Stewart,
Josef K,
Q and Not U,
Chris & Cosey,
Q65,
Can,
Sandy B,
Albert Ayler,
The Modern Lovers,
the Germs,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Lydon,
Aural Exciters,
Massinfluence,
Qualms,
One Last Wish,
The Real Kids,
Black Sheep,
Spoonie Gee,
Wasted Youth,
Tears for Fears,
John Holt,
The Dirtbombs,
Brick,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.