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 Taiwan and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Radiopuhelimet to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Prince Buster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Smog,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
The Cramps,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Circle Jerks,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suicide,
MDC,
Iggy Pop,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Starr,
John Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mad Mike,
Public Enemy,
Popol Vuh,
Nils Olav,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young,
Skaos,
Kerri Chandler,
Byron Stingily,
The Fugs,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gladiators,
MC5,
Drexciya,
The Move,
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rufus Thomas,
Surgeon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Visage,
June of 44,
Outsiders,
The Modern Lovers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Audionom,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Maleditus Sound,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jacques Brel,
Alton Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
Bill Wells,
The Gun Club,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fluxion,
Girls At Our Best!,
Clear Light,
Stereo Dub,
Godley & Creme,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.