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 Laos and from Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the grime 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar 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 clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Hood,
Terry Callier,
The Black Dice,
Lucky Dragons,
Oneida,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Pop Group,
Mantronix,
Alton Ellis,
Neil Young,
Johnny Clarke,
The Tremeloes,
The Remains,
Tomorrow,
Thee Headcoats,
Cameo,
Shoche,
Marshall Jefferson,
Unrelated Segments,
KRS-One,
Lindisfarne,
Isaac Hayes,
Aloha Tigers,
Scion,
X-Ray Spex,
Circle Jerks,
The Trojans,
Radiohead,
Little Man,
Quadrant,
Flipper,
The Durutti Column,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Banda Bassotti,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Green,
Chrome,
The Sound,
Yaz,
The Gories,
Stereo Dub,
This Heat,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smoke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dirtbombs,
Warsaw,
June of 44,
The Litter,
Neu!,
Bush Tetras,
Bobby Sherman,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.