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 Gabon and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the punk 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar 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 harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
The Pretty Things,
CMW,
Nation of Ulysses,
Faraquet,
Cluster,
The Cramps,
Letta Mbulu,
Bronski Beat,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Loose Ends,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Procol Harum,
Grauzone,
Sun City Girls,
Siglo XX,
The Kinks,
Oblivians,
Whodini,
Pierre Henry,
DNA,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
Don Cherry,
Bobby Sherman,
The Smoke,
Livin' Joy,
Scan 7,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pagans,
The Names,
Mantronix,
The Moleskins,
Bad Manners,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Hood,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harpers Bizarre,
48th St. Collective,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cecil Taylor,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
Television Personalities,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Darondo,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Lou Reed,
Amon Düül,
Suburban Knight,
Thee Headcoats,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Smog,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.