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 Sri Lanka and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Outsiders to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Interpol,
DJ Sneak,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hoover,
David Axelrod,
Von Mondo,
Frankie Knuckles,
June of 44,
Crooked Eye,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Shuggie Otis,
H. Thieme,
Yazoo,
Throbbing Gristle,
These Immortal Souls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scratch Acid,
Warren Ellis,
Saccharine Trust,
The Real Kids,
Sparks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moody Blues,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Womack,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stereo Dub,
Malaria!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monks,
Iggy Pop,
Pantaleimon,
The Offenders,
The Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Move,
Minnie Riperton,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moebius,
The Kinks,
The Cure,
Derrick Morgan,
The Motions,
Barry Ungar,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minor Threat,
Steve Hackett,
Chris & Cosey,
Flash Fearless,
U.S. Maple,
Stiv Bators,
Cybotron,
The Electric Prunes,
Sixth Finger,
Cymande,
Black Moon,
Dead Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scan 7,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.