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 Colombia and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Halifax.
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 guitar 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 Brass Construction to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camouflage,
The Invisible,
Judy Mowatt,
Lakeside,
Nas,
The Selecter,
Jacob Miller,
Amazonics,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wire,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vainqueur,
Soft Cell,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Black Dice,
Donny Hathaway,
The Mojo Men,
The Martian,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Black Pus,
Joensuu 1685,
Loose Ends,
L. Decosne,
Visage,
John Lydon,
The Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
The Last Poets,
The Offenders,
Altered Images,
Ice-T,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Make Up,
The Knickerbockers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Accadde A,
The Move,
Ludus,
Pierre Henry,
Warsaw,
Crispian St. Peters,
Clear Light,
Groovy Waters,
Con Funk Shun,
Aural Exciters,
Eli Mardock,
The Saints,
The Skatalites,
Infiniti,
Arcadia,
H. Thieme,
FM Einheit,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.