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 Kuwait and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes 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 Amon Düül to the grunge 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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Negative Approach,
The Slits,
Alice Coltrane,
Spandau Ballet,
Essential Logic,
Delta 5,
Moss Icon,
Yusef Lateef,
Donald Byrd,
Rekid,
Joe Smooth,
Ornette Coleman,
Kool Moe Dee,
Soft Cell,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Warsaw,
U.S. Maple,
Johnny Osbourne,
Brick,
Janne Schatter,
Symarip,
The American Breed,
Cluster,
Bauhaus,
Lucky Dragons,
David Bowie,
Hasil Adkins,
cv313,
Rapeman,
Sister Nancy,
Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Bronski Beat,
Henry Cow,
Ronnie Foster,
Vainqueur,
The Barracudas,
Sun Ra,
Bobby Sherman,
Tommy Roe,
Lightning Bolt,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mission of Burma,
Wire,
Scientists,
Stockholm Monsters,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Normal,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Ponytail,
The Birthday Party,
Aloha Tigers,
DNA,
Amon Düül,
Moebius,
The Gap Band,
Simply Red,
Suicide,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.