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 Slovenia and from Houston.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Neon Judgement to the dance 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Dawn Penn,
Desert Stars,
The Kinks,
Franke,
Eve St. Jones,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
Radio Birdman,
B.T. Express,
Avey Tare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
UT,
Minutemen,
The Fugs,
New York Dolls,
Lakeside,
Bobby Byrd,
John Lydon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eddi Front,
The Angels of Light,
Second Layer,
Public Enemy,
MC5,
Moby Grape,
Black Moon,
Country Teasers,
Pylon,
Tubeway Army,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shoche,
Mantronix,
Royal Trux,
Sugar Minott,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pierre Henry,
Archie Shepp,
Theoretical Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Intrusion,
Reuben Wilson,
Gabor Szabo,
Wally Richardson,
the Sonics,
Lightning Bolt,
Althea and Donna,
D'Angelo,
China Crisis,
U.S. Maple,
Black Pus,
One Last Wish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Cowsills,
Rapeman,
Jandek,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Index,
Banda Bassotti,
Black Sheep,
Yellowson,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.