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 Switzerland and from Madrid.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Busters to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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 Misunderstood,
Black Bananas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hoover,
The Star Department,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pagans,
Sun City Girls,
Moebius,
Liliput,
Man Eating Sloth,
Toni Rubio,
Bill Near,
Neil Young,
The Skatalites,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bob Dylan,
The Victims,
Camberwell Now,
Sparks,
Sandy B,
Simply Red,
Marmalade,
Sixth Finger,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Henry Cow,
Second Layer,
Al Stewart,
Animal Collective,
Ronnie Foster,
Blossom Toes,
Cheater Slicks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Derrick May,
Public Enemy,
Hot Snakes,
Vladislav Delay,
Yellowson,
Letta Mbulu,
Fluxion,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Man Parrish,
Idris Muhammad,
Pantytec,
Audionom,
Bush Tetras,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Goldenarms,
Mars,
Black Moon,
Stereo Dub,
The Dave Clark Five,
Maurizio,
Prince Buster,
The Red Krayola,
Grauzone,
Max Romeo,
cv313,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.