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 Spain and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Symarip to the disco 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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eddi Front,
Scientists,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grauzone,
H. Thieme,
Main Source,
E-Dancer,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Section 25,
Nirvana,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantytec,
Soul Sonic Force,
Malaria!,
The Real Kids,
World's Most,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Flag,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scan 7,
Cluster,
Hoover,
Amon Düül II,
the Human League,
Hardrive,
The Sonics,
The Moleskins,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
Flash Fearless,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ultra Naté,
Don Cherry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Porter Ricks,
Cameo,
Matthew Bourne,
Monolake,
Glenn Branca,
Intrusion,
Smog,
Franke,
DNA,
Junior Murvin,
Anthony Braxton,
Scratch Acid,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Echospace,
The Gories,
Mo-Dettes,
The Misunderstood,
The Index,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.