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 Colombia and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Das Ding to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and an arpeggiator 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 synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Human League,
Erasure,
Glenn Branca,
Flamin' Groovies,
Funky Four + One,
Circle Jerks,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Wells,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ituana,
Rapeman,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Slits,
Roxette,
Desert Stars,
The Slackers,
Soul II Soul,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultra Naté,
The Selecter,
Stetsasonic,
Pere Ubu,
Kas Product,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amon Düül II,
Erykah Badu,
Chris & Cosey,
The Standells,
The Moleskins,
Sex Pistols,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lyres,
Brothers Johnson,
Bauhaus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moody Blues,
Jandek,
Boogie Down Productions,
These Immortal Souls,
Man Parrish,
Leonard Cohen,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mission of Burma,
Quando Quango,
The Neon Judgement,
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash,
U.S. Maple,
Stereo Dub,
The Birthday Party,
Newcleus,
Popol Vuh,
The Gories,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Freddie Wadling,
Rosa Yemen,
Clear Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-101,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.