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 Malawi and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the dance 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Blackbyrds,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roger Hodgson,
The Divine Comedy,
Roy Ayers,
Albert Ayler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hashim,
EPMD,
Yusef Lateef,
Chrome,
Jimmy McGriff,
Babytalk,
Inner City,
New York Dolls,
Bad Manners,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Detroit Cobras,
U.S. Maple,
The Last Poets,
Idris Muhammad,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eve St. Jones,
Swans,
Ten City,
Clear Light,
The Names,
Ash Ra Tempel,
ABBA,
Banda Bassotti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eurythmics,
Deepchord,
Archie Shepp,
Gichy Dan,
Howard Jones,
Goldenarms,
Faust,
Whodini,
Deakin,
Yazoo,
Soul II Soul,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Slave,
Throbbing Gristle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
T. Rex,
Nik Kershaw,
Brick,
Anthony Braxton,
Theoretical Girls,
The Smiths,
Bill Wells,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tears for Fears,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.