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 Belgium and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Public Image Ltd. 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a guitar 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 spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Gang of Four,
Archie Shepp,
Tubeway Army,
Idris Muhammad,
The Walker Brothers,
The United States of America,
Kevin Saunderson,
T. Rex,
UT,
B.T. Express,
Flash Fearless,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wasted Youth,
R.M.O.,
The Grass Roots,
The Angels of Light,
X-Ray Spex,
These Immortal Souls,
The Barracudas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quantec,
Lightning Bolt,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Byrd,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Peter & Gordon,
Silicon Teens,
Tears for Fears,
The Fortunes,
Todd Rundgren,
June Days,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Josef K,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Clear Light,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
The Buckinghams,
Dark Day,
Amon Düül,
Danielle Patucci,
The Electric Prunes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Stooges,
Kenny Larkin,
The Five Americans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Derrick Morgan,
Howard Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
Lindisfarne,
Organ,
Leonard Cohen,
The Last Poets,
The Remains,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.