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 Uruguay and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 The Monks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Warren Ellis,
Lakeside,
The Modern Lovers,
The Searchers,
the Normal,
Grandmaster Flash,
Quando Quango,
The Kinks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Peter and Kerry,
Wolf Eyes,
Mary Jane Girls,
B.T. Express,
Rekid,
Television Personalities,
Patti Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
The Vogues,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Alphaville,
Althea and Donna,
R.M.O.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Chrome,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Big Daddy Kane,
Banda Bassotti,
Thee Headcoats,
Ken Boothe,
Al Stewart,
D'Angelo,
Liliput,
Khruangbin,
Wire,
Pantaleimon,
Moby Grape,
Marc Almond,
Angry Samoans,
The Seeds,
The Tremeloes,
The Skatalites,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Misunderstood,
U.S. Maple,
Flipper,
Electric Prunes,
The Selecter,
Susan Cadogan,
Fad Gadget,
Radio Birdman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
The Red Krayola,
The Star Department,
Hot Snakes,
The Electric Prunes,
Aswad,
The Durutti Column,
Porter Ricks,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.