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 Kosovo and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar 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 Joyce Sims to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ 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 harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Model 500,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pantaleimon,
Minor Threat,
Porter Ricks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dead C,
Popol Vuh,
Crime,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Monks,
Soft Cell,
AZ,
Gabor Szabo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Normal,
Eurythmics,
Avey Tare,
Peter & Gordon,
The Martian,
Matthew Halsall,
The Happenings,
John Foxx,
Hasil Adkins,
Unwound,
The Tremeloes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
L. Decosne,
Mark Hollis,
Q and Not U,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Flag,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Searchers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dark Day,
Outsiders,
Soul II Soul,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wire,
Bill Near,
Crispy Ambulance,
Patti Smith,
Brick,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bill Wells,
The Walker Brothers,
Quando Quango,
The Gun Club,
Tomorrow,
June of 44,
David Bowie,
Mantronix,
Pantytec,
Rapeman,
The Selecter,
In Retrospect,
Masters at Work,
The Gories,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.