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 Haiti and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Searchers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Angry Samoans,
Soft Cell,
These Immortal Souls,
Charles Mingus,
John Coltrane,
Minutemen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Thee Headcoats,
Urselle,
Cymande,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Knickerbockers,
cv313,
Japan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joey Negro,
DJ Style,
The Electric Prunes,
Sam Rivers,
Davy DMX,
The Fall,
The Skatalites,
Second Layer,
Desert Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
The Shadows of Knight,
EPMD,
Gang Green,
The Searchers,
The Star Department,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Arcadia,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jesper Dahlback,
Yellowson,
Chrome,
Bob Dylan,
Groovy Waters,
L. Decosne,
Goldenarms,
Motorama,
Colin Newman,
Ituana,
Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Fela Kuti,
Fluxion,
Mad Mike,
The Blues Magoos,
Bush Tetras,
Camouflage,
Vladislav Delay,
Mission of Burma,
Kurtis Blow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Flipper,
Lyres,
Essential Logic,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.