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 Dominican Republic and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Clear Light to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
U.S. Maple,
The Smoke,
Mission of Burma,
The Human League,
Second Layer,
Bizarre Inc.,
Motorama,
Easy Going,
Fear,
Simply Red,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Terry,
Saccharine Trust,
Althea and Donna,
Jeff Lynne,
Chrome,
Nico,
Marvin Gaye,
Josef K,
The Move,
Cal Tjader,
The Red Krayola,
Black Bananas,
New York Dolls,
Yaz,
Gichy Dan,
Grauzone,
John Foxx,
Sandy B,
Kurtis Blow,
Absolute Body Control,
Average White Band,
Juan Atkins,
JFA,
Lyres,
The Fuzztones,
Suicide,
Kaleidoscope,
Nation of Ulysses,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pere Ubu,
Sparks,
The Velvet Underground,
Deadbeat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Cale,
The Seeds,
Bill Wells,
Amazonics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Residents,
Au Pairs,
Accadde A,
Glambeats Corp.,
Archie Shepp,
Faust,
Rites of Spring,
Pierre Henry,
The Sonics,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.