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 Belgium and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Litter to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC 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 clarinet and a mellotron 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 clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Harry Pussy,
Brick,
The Names,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Livin' Joy,
Interpol,
Mo-Dettes,
Nils Olav,
Scott Walker,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
Roxette,
Marine Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Symarip,
Crash Course in Science,
Gastr Del Sol,
Neu!,
The Toasters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jeff Mills,
Young Marble Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Connie Case,
Darondo,
Toni Rubio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Pus,
The Fall,
Zero Boys,
Moby Grape,
Icehouse,
The Electric Prunes,
MDC,
Wire,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Residents,
Lou Christie,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Lynne,
The Pretty Things,
The Last Poets,
the Normal,
Amazonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Albert Ayler,
Cymande,
Delta 5,
Oblivians,
The Motions,
Bush Tetras,
Jerry's Kids,
FM Einheit,
Pole,
Tubeway Army,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.