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 Cambodia and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kaleidoscope to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Sound,
Cluster,
John Holt,
Eddi Front,
The Cowsills,
Kenny Larkin,
Marmalade,
Kerri Chandler,
Eric Dolphy,
The Slackers,
Panda Bear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Godley & Creme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kayak,
Cal Tjader,
The Smiths,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Knickerbockers,
UT,
Tears for Fears,
New Age Steppers,
a-ha,
Nico,
the Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Machine,
The Victims,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
B.T. Express,
Q and Not U,
Main Source,
The Cure,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Outsiders,
Scientists,
Bang On A Can,
Animal Collective,
Black Flag,
Moebius,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Yusef Lateef,
Easy Going,
The Selecter,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soft Cell,
The Skatalites,
Kurtis Blow,
Lakeside,
48th St. Collective,
ABBA,
Little Man,
The Evens,
Stereo Dub,
Marcia Griffiths,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.