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 Gabon and from Cairo.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb 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 These Immortal Souls to the rap 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Talk Talk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang Starr,
The Move,
The Monks,
Rakim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bill Wells,
Quadrant,
The Trojans,
Tres Demented,
Smog,
The Residents,
X-102,
JFA,
Delta 5,
Wings,
The Grass Roots,
Infiniti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Guru Guru,
The Mummies,
The Dead C,
Dennis Brown,
Agent Orange,
Gang Green,
Ultra Naté,
Crispy Ambulance,
L. Decosne,
Cameo,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Invisible,
DJ Style,
Minor Threat,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily,
Boz Scaggs,
Organ,
The Names,
Average White Band,
Lower 48,
The Sound,
Accadde A,
John Lydon,
Symarip,
Absolute Body Control,
The Happenings,
Mars,
Babytalk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Barry Ungar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Iggy Pop,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
The Fugs,
Amon Düül II,
John Cale,
Rod Modell,
Blossom Toes,
Grauzone,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.