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 Singapore and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the rap 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sister Nancy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
FM Einheit,
Half Japanese,
Jerry's Kids,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
Mission of Burma,
Jeff Lynne,
H. Thieme,
the Human League,
Tres Demented,
The Happenings,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
CMW,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Neon Judgement,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
The New Christs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Judy Mowatt,
The Mummies,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Knickerbockers,
Pylon,
The Cramps,
Man Parrish,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Womack,
Brick,
Reagan Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
These Immortal Souls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rekid,
Barrington Levy,
The United States of America,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Victims,
Eric Dolphy,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Moleskins,
The Sound,
Lucky Dragons,
Kenny Larkin,
Soul Sonic Force,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.