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 Malta and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 Rakim 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin 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 sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scott Walker,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Lydon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jawbox,
Wolf Eyes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Underground Resistance,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick Morgan,
Country Teasers,
Faraquet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Soul II Soul,
R.M.O.,
Banda Bassotti,
Khruangbin,
Blancmange,
Mad Mike,
K-Klass,
Bauhaus,
MDC,
The Blues Magoos,
Au Pairs,
Ponytail,
Bill Near,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Flipper,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Cheater Slicks,
The Move,
Amazonics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Silicon Teens,
Wally Richardson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quadrant,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Charles Mingus,
Moby Grape,
Echospace,
Eddi Front,
Monolake,
Monks,
Parry Music,
Toni Rubio,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nico,
Y Pants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Basic Channel,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Slave,
Rod Modell,
Niagra,
Sixth Finger,
Agitation Free,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.