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 Angola and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb 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 Terrestrial Tones to the dance 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet 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 organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lower 48,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hashim,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Lydon,
Slick Rick,
The Buckinghams,
The Gun Club,
Monks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
Quadrant,
Dawn Penn,
Scratch Acid,
FM Einheit,
Davy DMX,
Morten Harket,
the Normal,
The Toasters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mission of Burma,
The Fall,
Massinfluence,
Neil Young,
Supertramp,
Subhumans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Beau Brummels,
The Knickerbockers,
Au Pairs,
The Slackers,
Angry Samoans,
Ludus,
Piero Umiliani,
Sandy B,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alton Ellis,
Peter and Kerry,
The Saints,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lindisfarne,
Buzzcocks,
Joy Division,
Carl Craig,
Ituana,
The Detroit Cobras,
The J.B.'s,
Kas Product,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
DJ Style,
Arcadia,
Eli Mardock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Skriet,
Donald Byrd,
The Victims,
Janne Schatter,
World's Most,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.