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 Angola and from Seoul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Beasts of Bourbon 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum 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 guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 Raincoats,
Swell Maps,
The Neon Judgement,
The Barracudas,
DJ Style,
The Smoke,
R.M.O.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Iggy Pop,
T.S.O.L.,
Smog,
Bootsy Collins,
Graham Central Station,
Nirvana,
Siglo XX,
AZ,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eddi Front,
Scrapy,
The Gap Band,
Radiohead,
Nas,
The Smiths,
Junior Murvin,
John Coltrane,
Soft Cell,
Barbara Tucker,
Harpers Bizarre,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lucky Dragons,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Pretty Things,
Man Parrish,
Eve St. Jones,
Gichy Dan,
Zero Boys,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
John Holt,
Fatback Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Deepchord,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reagan Youth,
Mantronix,
Brick,
Hasil Adkins,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
One Last Wish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cal Tjader,
X-102,
Morten Harket,
Newcleus,
Zapp,
Livin' Joy,
Alison Limerick,
the Bar-Kays,
June Days,
Crooked Eye,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.