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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Lee Hazlewood to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare 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 marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
June of 44,
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Grass Roots,
Massinfluence,
Iggy Pop,
Soft Cell,
Gang Green,
Cecil Taylor,
Kayak,
Faust,
Dave Gahan,
Minor Threat,
The Smoke,
Half Japanese,
The Moody Blues,
Harpers Bizarre,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chrome,
the Swans,
Unrelated Segments,
Infiniti,
Simply Red,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jacques Brel,
Patti Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
U.S. Maple,
Bush Tetras,
World's Most,
Von Mondo,
Porter Ricks,
Todd Terry,
June Days,
Visage,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Delta 5,
Jeru the Damaja,
Au Pairs,
Tears for Fears,
JFA,
ABC,
Qualms,
Avey Tare,
The Victims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Animal Collective,
Grauzone,
The New Christs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flash Fearless,
The United States of America,
Oblivians,
David McCallum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Echospace,
Organ,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.