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 Vietnam and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the guitar 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 Patti Smith to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a harpsichord 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 güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Junior Murvin,
ABC,
Mandrill,
F. McDonald,
Oneida,
The United States of America,
AZ,
the Normal,
Howard Jones,
Visage,
Alice Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oblivians,
U.S. Maple,
Scrapy,
Lower 48,
Scan 7,
Public Enemy,
a-ha,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Slits,
Rapeman,
Bluetip,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skarface,
Deepchord,
Neu!,
Wings,
Severed Heads,
Fat Boys,
Cymande,
Electric Prunes,
Heaven 17,
Public Image Ltd.,
Yazoo,
The Cowsills,
Rotary Connection,
The Evens,
A Certain Ratio,
Charles Mingus,
The Sisters of Mercy,
H. Thieme,
Lalo Schifrin,
Colin Newman,
Blancmange,
Janne Schatter,
Wasted Youth,
Bush Tetras,
E-Dancer,
Camouflage,
Alton Ellis,
Bad Manners,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.