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 Guyana and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 Toni Rubio to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord 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 arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
This Heat,
Fat Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Gong,
Frankie Knuckles,
Model 500,
Inner City,
The Fall,
Mo-Dettes,
Boredoms,
Slave,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cameo,
The Index,
Glenn Branca,
Barclay James Harvest,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The American Breed,
June of 44,
Jeff Lynne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Skatalites,
Andrew Hill,
Curtis Mayfield,
48th St. Collective,
Chrome,
Rekid,
Japan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scratch Acid,
Howard Jones,
Rites of Spring,
Nils Olav,
Subhumans,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Tremeloes,
Prince Buster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soul II Soul,
Aswad,
Parry Music,
Blancmange,
cv313,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
UT,
Duran Duran,
Whodini,
Slick Rick,
The Slackers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Crime,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joy Division,
Cecil Taylor,
Nation of Ulysses,
Janne Schatter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stiv Bators,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.