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 Congo and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Skaos to the grunge 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba 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 snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Eddi Front,
Outsiders,
Talk Talk,
Jawbox,
Ornette Coleman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Hardrive,
The Toasters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Radio Birdman,
Derrick Morgan,
Mission of Burma,
These Immortal Souls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pussy Galore,
Faraquet,
Main Source,
Index,
Excepter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
La Düsseldorf,
Rod Modell,
Anakelly,
Camberwell Now,
Rapeman,
Joensuu 1685,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Move,
The Slackers,
MC5,
Lalann,
Mo-Dettes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Swell Maps,
Tubeway Army,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thompson Twins,
Technova,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harry Pussy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eurythmics,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Little Man,
New Order,
Liliput,
Matthew Halsall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minor Threat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kaleidoscope,
The Fall,
The Kinks,
T. Rex,
the Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
Sarah Menescal,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.