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 Moldova and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord 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 organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Piero Umiliani,
Whodini,
The Mummies,
The Sonics,
La Düsseldorf,
World's Most,
Jeff Lynne,
Wire,
The Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
Patti Smith,
Faust,
Deakin,
Roxy Music,
Harry Pussy,
E-Dancer,
The Toasters,
The Monochrome Set,
Make Up,
Theoretical Girls,
The New Christs,
Bill Near,
Bush Tetras,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fatback Band,
Eurythmics,
Bob Dylan,
Country Teasers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mad Mike,
Susan Cadogan,
Aloha Tigers,
Khruangbin,
the Sonics,
Sparks,
Echospace,
Simply Red,
Fugazi,
David Axelrod,
DJ Style,
Man Parrish,
Thee Headcoats,
The Misunderstood,
The Knickerbockers,
Youth Brigade,
Black Flag,
Liliput,
B.T. Express,
June Days,
Subhumans,
New Age Steppers,
Gong,
The Busters,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.