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 El Salvador and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Pere Ubu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar 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 linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Heaven 17,
The United States of America,
Model 500,
Mars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kayak,
Roxette,
The Mummies,
John Holt,
Nico,
Reagan Youth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare,
Scott Walker,
Sight & Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
Terrestrial Tones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hoover,
Outsiders,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lee Hazlewood,
One Last Wish,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Funkadelic,
The Pretty Things,
Deakin,
Stereo Dub,
The Gun Club,
ABBA,
Johnny Osbourne,
Reuben Wilson,
Neil Young,
Suburban Knight,
Joensuu 1685,
Inner City,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash,
Los Fastidios,
Y Pants,
Spoonie Gee,
Laurel Aitken,
The Moleskins,
The Toasters,
Sixth Finger,
Sex Pistols,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ronan,
Monolake,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soulsonic Force,
Pet Shop Boys,
Anakelly,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.