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 Vanuatu and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro 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 Accadde A to the crunk 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 Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Busters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Zeros,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
B.T. Express,
MC5,
Boz Scaggs,
Gong,
The Five Americans,
Dave Gahan,
Monks,
Howard Jones,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
The Dirtbombs,
Symarip,
David Axelrod,
Cymande,
Glenn Branca,
Khruangbin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cramps,
T.S.O.L.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Barracudas,
Rufus Thomas,
Crash Course in Science,
Schoolly D,
Lungfish,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eden Ahbez,
UT,
The J.B.'s,
Toni Rubio,
Q and Not U,
Animal Collective,
Pole,
Moby Grape,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bootsy Collins,
Whodini,
Franke,
The Skatalites,
The Shadows of Knight,
Prince Buster,
Camberwell Now,
Minor Threat,
Arcadia,
Bobby Womack,
Lucky Dragons,
Surgeon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jandek,
Scrapy,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Kinks,
Eli Mardock,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Green,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.