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 Iran and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Soulsonic Force to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Johnny Osbourne,
Can,
The Last Poets,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Slits,
Soft Cell,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The New Christs,
Connie Case,
Eric Copeland,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Angry Samoans,
China Crisis,
Max Romeo,
Quadrant,
Leonard Cohen,
Junior Murvin,
John Holt,
Depeche Mode,
Warren Ellis,
The Mummies,
Susan Cadogan,
Funky Four + One,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
Tres Demented,
Brothers Johnson,
Metal Thangz,
Judy Mowatt,
Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Hoover,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dead C,
Throbbing Gristle,
Chris Corsano,
Franke,
Buzzcocks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Move,
New Order,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Starr,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oneida,
Danielle Patucci,
Cecil Taylor,
the Fania All-Stars,
UT,
New York Dolls,
Rakim,
The Offenders,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.