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 Sweden and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 F. McDonald to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a synthesizer 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 linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soft Machine,
The Move,
Los Fastidios,
Porter Ricks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Human League,
Jerry's Kids,
Royal Trux,
Zapp,
Mars,
10cc,
the Normal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nirvana,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blake Baxter,
Arcadia,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Sherman,
The Star Department,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Vogues,
R.M.O.,
Sexual Harrassment,
David McCallum,
Silicon Teens,
Warsaw,
Reagan Youth,
The Black Dice,
T.S.O.L.,
Wally Richardson,
The Martian,
Ken Boothe,
Albert Ayler,
Scratch Acid,
Mission of Burma,
Josef K,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Mummies,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cure,
Tres Demented,
June Days,
Neil Young,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
Fad Gadget,
Drive Like Jehu,
Suicide,
Man Eating Sloth,
T. Rex,
Ten City,
Bill Near,
Liliput,
The Wake,
Mandrill,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.