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 the UAE and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Electric Prunes to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fuzztones,
D'Angelo,
Guru Guru,
Duran Duran,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pierre Henry,
John Foxx,
The Beau Brummels,
This Heat,
Hashim,
Carl Craig,
These Immortal Souls,
Charles Mingus,
Minny Pops,
Max Romeo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bronski Beat,
Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
Prince Buster,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Tremeloes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sugar Minott,
Todd Terry,
The Martian,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gun Club,
Black Moon,
Urselle,
The Walker Brothers,
The Busters,
Joy Division,
The Blackbyrds,
Faust,
Aloha Tigers,
Severed Heads,
Organ,
Yellowson,
Pussy Galore,
The Moody Blues,
Bauhaus,
Flash Fearless,
Hot Snakes,
The Smoke,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lee Hazlewood,
Supertramp,
The Raincoats,
Scrapy,
Black Sheep,
Roxette,
Television,
The Associates,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.