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 Sri Lanka and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Flipper,
Arthur Verocai,
Albert Ayler,
Boz Scaggs,
Porter Ricks,
Jesper Dahlback,
kango's stein massive,
Susan Cadogan,
Quantec,
Maleditus Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Y Pants,
Organ,
Toni Rubio,
Lungfish,
Ponytail,
Derrick May,
Lyres,
Rapeman,
Peter & Gordon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Howard Jones,
The Victims,
Negative Approach,
LL Cool J,
Jeff Lynne,
World's Most,
Qualms,
Zero Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pussy Galore,
The Litter,
John Foxx,
Pierre Henry,
The Zeros,
Duran Duran,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fatback Band,
Desert Stars,
U.S. Maple,
Cheater Slicks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Association,
Pylon,
Mission of Burma,
Lakeside,
Television Personalities,
KRS-One,
Clear Light,
Minor Threat,
Bob Dylan,
The Dead C,
8 Eyed Spy,
Reagan Youth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Music Machine,
Charles Mingus,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.