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 Kiribati and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Masters at Work to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro 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 snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Eden Ahbez,
Deadbeat,
Arcadia,
X-101,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ornette Coleman,
Minny Pops,
Tubeway Army,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Theoretical Girls,
Moss Icon,
The Happenings,
Amazonics,
Can,
the Normal,
Ludus,
Warsaw,
Inner City,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Bananas,
Dave Gahan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Chris Corsano,
Amon Düül,
Sun Ra,
Lucky Dragons,
Pussy Galore,
Funkadelic,
Liliput,
Infiniti,
The Electric Prunes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Groovy Waters,
Drexciya,
Banda Bassotti,
Harry Pussy,
Idris Muhammad,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Slave,
Aswad,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
H. Thieme,
Tom Boy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
48th St. Collective,
John Cale,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Connie Case,
Scrapy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New Age Steppers,
L. Decosne,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare,
Marmalade,
In Retrospect,
Altered Images,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.