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 Turkey and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Supertramp to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Porter Ricks,
Don Cherry,
Moby Grape,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Barracudas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mandrill,
Archie Shepp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pole,
Liliput,
Joe Smooth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Freddie Wadling,
E-Dancer,
Make Up,
Bobby Sherman,
Agent Orange,
The Smiths,
Lightning Bolt,
Shuggie Otis,
Junior Murvin,
Crooked Eye,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Minor Threat,
DNA,
Y Pants,
The Wake,
Au Pairs,
MDC,
Bobby Womack,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Byrd,
John Coltrane,
Blake Baxter,
Delta 5,
Warren Ellis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Supertramp,
Technova,
Hashim,
Jacob Miller,
The United States of America,
Dennis Brown,
Patti Smith,
The Real Kids,
Swans,
Alice Coltrane,
Blossom Toes,
Con Funk Shun,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scrapy,
Bill Near,
Ultravox,
Faust,
Ultra Naté,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.