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 Ireland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Swell Maps to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb 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 harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
The Dirtbombs,
Quando Quango,
Metal Thangz,
Vladislav Delay,
Q and Not U,
The Leaves,
Procol Harum,
Radiopuhelimet,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faraquet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bizarre Inc.,
L. Decosne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Swans,
Zero Boys,
The Happenings,
The Mummies,
In Retrospect,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Audionom,
The Durutti Column,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Neil Young,
Erasure,
Lucky Dragons,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fat Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
James White and The Blacks,
Second Layer,
Marmalade,
Bronski Beat,
Sam Rivers,
Freddie Wadling,
Ituana,
Matthew Bourne,
The Selecter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aswad,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bang On A Can,
Index,
Bluetip,
Alton Ellis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
H. Thieme,
Blake Baxter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pussy Galore,
The Sound,
Thompson Twins,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
Danielle Patucci,
Half Japanese,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.