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 Mauritius and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Don Cherry to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar 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 organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Pagans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ornette Coleman,
Gong,
Lou Christie,
Delta 5,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Brothers Johnson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Fania All-Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
Franke,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erykah Badu,
Yazoo,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Black Sheep,
Minnie Riperton,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Fuzztones,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lee Hazlewood,
Derrick May,
Liliput,
Bobby Sherman,
Ossler,
Jawbox,
Rufus Thomas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mars,
David Bowie,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fad Gadget,
Stetsasonic,
Royal Trux,
Don Cherry,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Offenders,
Animal Collective,
June of 44,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The American Breed,
B.T. Express,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Harry Pussy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Standells,
Janne Schatter,
Ten City,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nik Kershaw,
The Tremeloes,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.