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 Netherlands and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe 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 spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ronan,
Janne Schatter,
Juan Atkins,
Hashim,
Mandrill,
The Smiths,
B.T. Express,
Albert Ayler,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
One Last Wish,
Skaos,
Soft Machine,
The Residents,
The Black Dice,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Durutti Column,
The Gladiators,
Sixth Finger,
Unrelated Segments,
Junior Murvin,
Scan 7,
Liliput,
Peter & Gordon,
Japan,
Reuben Wilson,
Das Ding,
Make Up,
Byron Stingily,
Scott Walker,
U.S. Maple,
Alison Limerick,
Interpol,
The Birthday Party,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ken Boothe,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ten City,
Gastr Del Sol,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skriet,
Maleditus Sound,
Livin' Joy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kas Product,
Slick Rick,
Susan Cadogan,
Wasted Youth,
Lightning Bolt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Faraquet,
Joe Finger,
X-Ray Spex,
Ituana,
Fear,
Brand Nubian,
Gong,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.