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 Nepal and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joy Division to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin 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 oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Suicide,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television,
ABC,
CMW,
Groovy Waters,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultravox,
Don Cherry,
Slick Rick,
Blancmange,
Glenn Branca,
The Fortunes,
Dorothy Ashby,
10cc,
Intrusion,
Icehouse,
Lungfish,
Boredoms,
Eden Ahbez,
Terry Callier,
Junior Murvin,
Drexciya,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cymande,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tres Demented,
Stockholm Monsters,
Arthur Verocai,
Aloha Tigers,
The Motions,
The New Christs,
Sun City Girls,
Sun Ra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cramps,
Basic Channel,
Flash Fearless,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Neil Young,
Interpol,
The Searchers,
Chris & Cosey,
The Techniques,
The Doors,
Fugazi,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gun Club,
The Birthday Party,
Gichy Dan,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.