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 Paraguay and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Arthur Verocai 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 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 theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Make Up,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Amon Düül,
Glambeats Corp.,
D'Angelo,
the Germs,
Parry Music,
Roxette,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Joy Division,
The Durutti Column,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Detroit Cobras,
48th St. Collective,
K-Klass,
The Human League,
Harmonia,
Pagans,
Al Stewart,
Easy Going,
Althea and Donna,
Masters at Work,
Sandy B,
Ituana,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fatback Band,
The Cure,
The Selecter,
The Pretty Things,
Clear Light,
Severed Heads,
Crooked Eye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Peter & Gordon,
Swell Maps,
Das Ding,
These Immortal Souls,
The Divine Comedy,
Peter and Kerry,
Television,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skarface,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood,
Jawbox,
The Gories,
Andrew Hill,
the Slits,
Buzzcocks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DJ Sneak,
John Cale,
Sparks,
Man Parrish,
Robert Görl,
Sugar Minott,
H. Thieme,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roxy Music,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Icehouse,
Dead Boys,
Ornette Coleman,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.