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 United Kingdom and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Arab on Radar to the rock 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
The Blackbyrds,
Cheater Slicks,
LL Cool J,
Vainqueur,
Derrick Morgan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Supertramp,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lakeside,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Moody Blues,
Matthew Bourne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Christie,
Can,
Fugazi,
Easy Going,
Neil Young,
The Buckinghams,
The Index,
Nirvana,
Sister Nancy,
Smog,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lungfish,
The Gun Club,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Donny Hathaway,
Brass Construction,
The Fugs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Albert Ayler,
Con Funk Shun,
Sonic Youth,
Rites of Spring,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronnie Foster,
Stiv Bators,
Tubeway Army,
MC5,
Jeff Mills,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Silicon Teens,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marvin Gaye,
Laurel Aitken,
Rapeman,
Hot Snakes,
Au Pairs,
Rakim,
Inner City,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Womack,
The Happenings,
Black Pus,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.