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 Djibouti and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin 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 harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Boredoms,
Niagra,
Rosa Yemen,
These Immortal Souls,
Dave Gahan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rekid,
Connie Case,
Bluetip,
Porter Ricks,
The Fall,
Mad Mike,
Lakeside,
Animal Collective,
Hashim,
Gang Green,
Wasted Youth,
KRS-One,
Josef K,
Bauhaus,
The Evens,
Chris Corsano,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Normal,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang of Four,
Au Pairs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Litter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Certain Ratio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sällskapet,
Bob Dylan,
John Cale,
Radiohead,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Black Dice,
Mandrill,
The Knickerbockers,
the Swans,
MDC,
JFA,
the Association,
Aloha Tigers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
Mars,
The Star Department,
The Stooges,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bad Manners,
Lungfish,
Whodini,
Blossom Toes,
Outsiders,
The Human League,
Rod Modell,
Reagan Youth,
Bizarre Inc.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.