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 Azerbaijan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin 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 arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Country Joe & The Fish,
KRS-One,
Patti Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alice Coltrane,
The Searchers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scrapy,
The Misunderstood,
John Coltrane,
Flash Fearless,
Carl Craig,
Warren Ellis,
Simply Red,
Fela Kuti,
The Dirtbombs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lou Christie,
The Buckinghams,
The Angels of Light,
The Sonics,
Easy Going,
The New Christs,
Livin' Joy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tears for Fears,
Kenny Larkin,
Donald Byrd,
Ituana,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Foxx,
Chris Corsano,
Marc Almond,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slick Rick,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aloha Tigers,
Silicon Teens,
Eden Ahbez,
Smog,
Eurythmics,
Pagans,
Leonard Cohen,
Blancmange,
Harmonia,
48th St. Collective,
Gerry Rafferty,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marine Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deadbeat,
Letta Mbulu,
Iggy Pop,
the Association,
Byron Stingily,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Prunes,
Alison Limerick,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.