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 Paraguay and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Severed Heads to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord 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 snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
The Searchers,
Marc Almond,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terry Callier,
The Saints,
Big Daddy Kane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Blossom Toes,
Eric Dolphy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Pop Group,
The Velvet Underground,
Leonard Cohen,
David Axelrod,
Jacob Miller,
Tres Demented,
Rites of Spring,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Monochrome Set,
Magazine,
Spoonie Gee,
Nirvana,
Barrington Levy,
DJ Sneak,
Connie Case,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rod Modell,
Rekid,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Severed Heads,
Joensuu 1685,
The Trojans,
Excepter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alton Ellis,
Sparks,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Durutti Column,
Swell Maps,
Arthur Verocai,
Godley & Creme,
Flipper,
Sex Pistols,
OOIOO,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hot Snakes,
Aswad,
Crash Course in Science,
Amon Düül,
H. Thieme,
B.T. Express,
Half Japanese,
The Selecter,
Warren Ellis,
Dead Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Essential Logic,
Yazoo,
Al Stewart,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.