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 Libya and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rakim to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Lou Reed,
the Sonics,
Aswad,
The Evens,
Franke,
DNA,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Amon Düül II,
Joey Negro,
Lalo Schifrin,
Oblivians,
The Human League,
Danielle Patucci,
Scott Walker,
Goldenarms,
T. Rex,
Rakim,
T.S.O.L.,
The Last Poets,
The Blues Magoos,
Hardrive,
Marc Almond,
Crispian St. Peters,
Connie Case,
Pylon,
Boredoms,
Niagra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Y Pants,
Jerry's Kids,
Ken Boothe,
Pagans,
Bill Wells,
Bronski Beat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Skarface,
Scion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Michelle Simonal,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Womack,
Jeff Mills,
Khruangbin,
Scan 7,
Pantytec,
Ludus,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
D'Angelo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Babytalk,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ohio Players,
Pantaleimon,
Echospace,
the Fania All-Stars,
Panda Bear,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.