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 Iceland and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Barry Ungar to the grime 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin 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 harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
EPMD,
X-101,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
the Association,
The Skatalites,
CMW,
Charles Mingus,
Eli Mardock,
Whodini,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Radio Birdman,
Yazoo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pulsallama,
Qualms,
Unrelated Segments,
Lower 48,
Average White Band,
Pere Ubu,
Blake Baxter,
Tim Buckley,
Pussy Galore,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Juan Atkins,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Womack,
MDC,
The Smiths,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Saccharine Trust,
Hashim,
Half Japanese,
Anthony Braxton,
Boredoms,
Aural Exciters,
Boz Scaggs,
Cymande,
Dawn Penn,
Liliput,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eric Dolphy,
One Last Wish,
a-ha,
the Germs,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fall,
Eyeless In Gaza,
In Retrospect,
Bauhaus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.