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 Sudan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 The Sonics to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 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 theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
The Durutti Column,
Frankie Knuckles,
Spoonie Gee,
Toni Rubio,
Con Funk Shun,
Loose Ends,
The Barracudas,
Gong,
Mad Mike,
Carl Craig,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Procol Harum,
Niagra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Schoolly D,
The Beau Brummels,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slick Rick,
The American Breed,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q65,
Erasure,
Harmonia,
the Bar-Kays,
Alton Ellis,
Negative Approach,
Todd Terry,
Parry Music,
Marmalade,
Steve Hackett,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-102,
Skriet,
the Soft Cell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Sonics,
Crime,
JFA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ituana,
La Düsseldorf,
CMW,
Massinfluence,
Whodini,
Bootsy Collins,
Dead Boys,
The Residents,
Rites of Spring,
Joensuu 1685,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sonny Sharrock,
Japan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
Gang Green,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.