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 South Africa and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Invisible to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wally Richardson,
Cal Tjader,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bill Near,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Junior Murvin,
Qualms,
Soul II Soul,
Boredoms,
The Dirtbombs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rosa Yemen,
Darondo,
Section 25,
Von Mondo,
Sixth Finger,
Morten Harket,
Mantronix,
The Litter,
Bobby Womack,
Masters at Work,
Monolake,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Henry Cow,
Toni Rubio,
Josef K,
Fat Boys,
Eddi Front,
The Dead C,
Roger Hodgson,
Infiniti,
Mad Mike,
Crash Course in Science,
Babytalk,
The Skatalites,
Black Pus,
Groovy Waters,
The American Breed,
Marine Girls,
Supertramp,
Matthew Bourne,
Excepter,
Derrick Morgan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Youth Brigade,
Pussy Galore,
U.S. Maple,
Urselle,
Sound Behaviour,
Erykah Badu,
Robert Hood,
KRS-One,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Circle Jerks,
The Busters,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.