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 Brunei and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Second Layer to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 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 synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Spandau Ballet,
David Bowie,
Sun City Girls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pole,
Hardrive,
Mission of Burma,
China Crisis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wire,
Oneida,
Lalo Schifrin,
Soulsonic Force,
The Kinks,
Tom Boy,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roger Hodgson,
Crime,
Maurizio,
Flipper,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Skriet,
Terry Callier,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mandrill,
Lalann,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minnie Riperton,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Graham Central Station,
The Five Americans,
DJ Style,
John Lydon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jandek,
Procol Harum,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chris Corsano,
Grey Daturas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
B.T. Express,
The Fugs,
Hoover,
Jerry's Kids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bluetip,
Angry Samoans,
Rakim,
Qualms,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.