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 Philippines and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Make Up to the rap 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin 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 oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
The Fortunes,
Marmalade,
The Gories,
Stetsasonic,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cameo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Adolescents,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Saints,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
DJ Sneak,
Eric Copeland,
The Happenings,
Freddie Wadling,
Sparks,
Soul Sonic Force,
James White and The Blacks,
Stiv Bators,
The Litter,
Mo-Dettes,
H. Thieme,
The Names,
Delta 5,
The Seeds,
Tommy Roe,
The Techniques,
Isaac Hayes,
Wolf Eyes,
Sandy B,
Bill Wells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
One Last Wish,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Green,
Todd Terry,
Aaron Thompson,
Gong,
Smog,
The Raincoats,
X-102,
Main Source,
Eurythmics,
Easy Going,
Harmonia,
the Slits,
Crooked Eye,
the Sonics,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Camberwell Now,
The Cramps,
Bang On A Can,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.