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 Antigua and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Public Enemy to the techno 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
the Germs,
Sight & Sound,
Archie Shepp,
Simply Red,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
Jacques Brel,
Hot Snakes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Vainqueur,
Glenn Branca,
Albert Ayler,
Saccharine Trust,
Peter and Kerry,
Judy Mowatt,
Pantaleimon,
Donald Byrd,
Barbara Tucker,
Boogie Down Productions,
Y Pants,
Television,
Scott Walker,
Bang On A Can,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Terry,
Isaac Hayes,
Suicide,
Dennis Brown,
Basic Channel,
The Gladiators,
Pere Ubu,
X-101,
Franke,
ABC,
Parry Music,
Gang Green,
Banda Bassotti,
Deakin,
David Axelrod,
Marc Almond,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fire Engines,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Amon Düül,
Talk Talk,
Boz Scaggs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
OOIOO,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bootsy Collins,
The Shadows of Knight,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
The Moody Blues,
Spoonie Gee,
Sam Rivers,
Buzzcocks,
Sun City Girls,
Bill Near,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.