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 Russia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Steve Hackett to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a synthesizer and a güiro 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 clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Clear Light,
The Standells,
These Immortal Souls,
The Raincoats,
Yazoo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sun City Girls,
Neu!,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
Prince Buster,
Whodini,
The Monks,
Massinfluence,
John Holt,
Swell Maps,
The Cure,
Janne Schatter,
Adolescents,
The Barracudas,
Minny Pops,
Pierre Henry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cheater Slicks,
Marvin Gaye,
One Last Wish,
Anakelly,
T. Rex,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oblivians,
The Wake,
Arthur Verocai,
The Busters,
Half Japanese,
Vainqueur,
Trumans Water,
Blossom Toes,
The Fortunes,
Japan,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Green,
Eric Dolphy,
Ronan,
Fela Kuti,
The Motions,
Marmalade,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Section 25,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Brand Nubian,
Juan Atkins,
Parry Music,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Fraelich,
The Victims,
This Heat,
Wolf Eyes,
Popol Vuh,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.