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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare 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 the Fania All-Stars to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
The Doors,
The Young Rascals,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang of Four,
Underground Resistance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fad Gadget,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Theoretical Girls,
David Bowie,
JFA,
Arab on Radar,
The Standells,
Quando Quango,
Scientists,
June Days,
Kool Moe Dee,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Judy Mowatt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marc Almond,
Minutemen,
Deepchord,
Roxette,
a-ha,
The Busters,
Can,
John Foxx,
Bobby Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gap Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Au Pairs,
Soft Machine,
David Axelrod,
Quantec,
The Last Poets,
The Victims,
Grey Daturas,
Camberwell Now,
Connie Case,
Lou Christie,
Dorothy Ashby,
Michelle Simonal,
the Normal,
Shuggie Otis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tomorrow,
ABBA,
Young Marble Giants,
Eden Ahbez,
Janne Schatter,
Pere Ubu,
Scratch Acid,
Stiv Bators,
Curtis Mayfield,
Idris Muhammad,
Kerrie Biddell,
David McCallum,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rotary Connection,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.