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 China and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bootsy Collins to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron 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 guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Barrington Levy,
The Selecter,
The Doors,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lalann,
Soft Cell,
Ice-T,
Bobby Byrd,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick Morgan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Vogues,
K-Klass,
X-101,
Y Pants,
Tubeway Army,
Animal Collective,
The Count Five,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Pus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wally Richardson,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rekid,
Rakim,
The Fire Engines,
Donny Hathaway,
Talk Talk,
Half Japanese,
Cameo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Archie Shepp,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David Bowie,
Eden Ahbez,
Charles Mingus,
Alison Limerick,
Connie Case,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brothers Johnson,
Masters at Work,
Sparks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fatback Band,
Blancmange,
Soul II Soul,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Invisible,
Amon Düül,
The Wake,
The Gories,
The Music Machine,
UT,
Yaz,
Juan Atkins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.