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 Ireland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 AZ to the electroclash 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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a harpsichord 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 mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Das Ding,
The Moleskins,
The Monks,
Brick,
Scion,
Kurtis Blow,
Gichy Dan,
Carl Craig,
Josef K,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Cowsills,
Girls At Our Best!,
Joe Smooth,
X-101,
Livin' Joy,
Dead Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Divine Comedy,
Wire,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jandek,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rekid,
Chrome,
Reagan Youth,
Porter Ricks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moebius,
Sixth Finger,
Bill Near,
Flamin' Groovies,
Faraquet,
Suburban Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Womack,
Morten Harket,
Mary Jane Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
The Human League,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerri Chandler,
Rod Modell,
Quando Quango,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultravox,
Traffic Nightmare,
Barrington Levy,
The Count Five,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Pop Group,
Erasure,
the Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Cale,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.