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 Afghanistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nation of Ulysses to the jazz 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes 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 marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
B.T. Express,
Camouflage,
Second Layer,
Sam Rivers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gerry Rafferty,
Robert Görl,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sarah Menescal,
The Pretty Things,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mantronix,
These Immortal Souls,
Soft Cell,
U.S. Maple,
Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Make Up,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Standells,
Kaleidoscope,
Das Ding,
Interpol,
X-101,
Infiniti,
The Last Poets,
L. Decosne,
Bang On A Can,
The Black Dice,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Barbara Tucker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Chris Corsano,
Bill Near,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Clear Light,
Darondo,
Max Romeo,
The Music Machine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Warren Ellis,
Scientists,
The Count Five,
Drexciya,
AZ,
Juan Atkins,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Parrish,
Alison Limerick,
Althea and Donna,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.