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 Thailand and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the funk 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet 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 spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Maleditus Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mantronix,
ABBA,
Radio Birdman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Television,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
CMW,
Tres Demented,
The Fortunes,
Matthew Bourne,
Dead Boys,
Intrusion,
Donald Byrd,
The Fugs,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sixth Finger,
Magma,
Leonard Cohen,
Roxette,
The Associates,
EPMD,
Sarah Menescal,
Hardrive,
The Remains,
Monks,
Roy Ayers,
Cecil Taylor,
Accadde A,
The Dirtbombs,
The American Breed,
Arcadia,
Porter Ricks,
the Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Janne Schatter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Amazonics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Groovy Waters,
The Selecter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Heaven 17,
Hashim,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boz Scaggs,
Ornette Coleman,
Sandy B,
Stereo Dub,
Albert Ayler,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Mojo Men,
Barclay James Harvest,
Frankie Knuckles,
Newcleus,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.