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 Mali and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Martian to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar 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 spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra,
Los Fastidios,
OOIOO,
Hardrive,
Blossom Toes,
Half Japanese,
Pierre Henry,
Icehouse,
The Tremeloes,
Wolf Eyes,
Organ,
The Vogues,
Banda Bassotti,
The Selecter,
John Foxx,
UT,
the Bar-Kays,
CMW,
Man Parrish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fear,
The Smoke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yazoo,
Terry Callier,
The Pretty Things,
Quando Quango,
The Names,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jeff Mills,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Pus,
Darondo,
Bobby Byrd,
John Cale,
Radiohead,
Cybotron,
Country Teasers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Con Funk Shun,
Thompson Twins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joey Negro,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Agent Orange,
Sarah Menescal,
Accadde A,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Normal,
Deakin,
Boredoms,
Connie Case,
Country Joe & The Fish,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.