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 Bolivia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Kinks to the rap 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ 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 oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Crash Course in Science,
John Foxx,
Kevin Saunderson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Intrusion,
Average White Band,
Avey Tare,
Crime,
Vainqueur,
Bang On A Can,
The Human League,
Dead Boys,
Gang Starr,
Tim Buckley,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dave Gahan,
Minor Threat,
CMW,
Basic Channel,
H. Thieme,
New Order,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mandrill,
Shoche,
Toni Rubio,
Underground Resistance,
Accadde A,
Michelle Simonal,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aaron Thompson,
Sight & Sound,
Suicide,
Cal Tjader,
Gichy Dan,
Slave,
E-Dancer,
The Slackers,
Charles Mingus,
The Saints,
Adolescents,
The Fuzztones,
The Blues Magoos,
the Soft Cell,
Loose Ends,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grandmaster Flash,
Funkadelic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Dirtbombs,
Depeche Mode,
The Pop Group,
Flipper,
the Association,
Black Moon,
Qualms,
Zapp,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Con Funk Shun,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.