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 Mongolia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 KRS-One to the rap 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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
One Last Wish,
Reagan Youth,
John Holt,
The Tremeloes,
Al Stewart,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rod Modell,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bauhaus,
Crispy Ambulance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nick Fraelich,
Girls At Our Best!,
EPMD,
Warsaw,
Erykah Badu,
The United States of America,
F. McDonald,
Rites of Spring,
Laurel Aitken,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New York Dolls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Youth Brigade,
Talk Talk,
Aural Exciters,
The Doors,
Skaos,
The Kinks,
The Smiths,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marvin Gaye,
The Trojans,
The Cure,
Glambeats Corp.,
Vladislav Delay,
Wolf Eyes,
Skarface,
Curtis Mayfield,
Alison Limerick,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Surgeon,
Cluster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Flipper,
Scrapy,
Carl Craig,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Starr,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
Dave Gahan,
Eric Copeland,
Dawn Penn,
Bush Tetras,
The Last Poets,
Amon Düül II,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.