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 Iraq and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and an organ 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 clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eddi Front,
Laurel Aitken,
Rekid,
Joyce Sims,
Wally Richardson,
John Holt,
Neu!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cluster,
Boredoms,
Ultra Naté,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Silicon Teens,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kool Moe Dee,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kas Product,
Second Layer,
Colin Newman,
KRS-One,
X-102,
Minny Pops,
Janne Schatter,
The Zeros,
The Cramps,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Isaac Hayes,
ABC,
John Lydon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gerry Rafferty,
Letta Mbulu,
The Cure,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
DNA,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Loose Ends,
Public Enemy,
Liliput,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Womack,
Gong,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alphaville,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Inner City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris & Cosey,
Lower 48,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gories,
Minor Threat,
Von Mondo,
Camberwell Now,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.