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 Austria and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Spandau Ballet to the rap 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a theremin 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 sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Red Krayola,
Nas,
China Crisis,
The Slackers,
World's Most,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jacob Miller,
Dave Gahan,
Joy Division,
The United States of America,
Ralphi Rosario,
Supertramp,
Underground Resistance,
EPMD,
Public Enemy,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
The Music Machine,
Slick Rick,
Young Marble Giants,
H. Thieme,
Bad Manners,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Gap Band,
Juan Atkins,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Pus,
These Immortal Souls,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Duran Duran,
John Coltrane,
Nick Fraelich,
Suburban Knight,
Suicide,
Pussy Galore,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neil Young,
Crispian St. Peters,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cure,
Marc Almond,
Accadde A,
The Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Boredoms,
Jawbox,
Man Parrish,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Germs,
Niagra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
LL Cool J,
Erykah Badu,
The Fortunes,
Magazine,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.