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 Samoa and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Toni Rubio to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin 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 mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Roy Ayers,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott Heron,
Index,
Leonard Cohen,
The United States of America,
Lee Hazlewood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Surgeon,
Wings,
Unwound,
Sparks,
David Axelrod,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Evens,
Magma,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Toasters,
Joensuu 1685,
Mars,
ABBA,
Organ,
B.T. Express,
Angry Samoans,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
X-101,
David Bowie,
Pere Ubu,
Carl Craig,
FM Einheit,
Agent Orange,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sandy B,
Jeru the Damaja,
These Immortal Souls,
The Knickerbockers,
Warsaw,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Lynne,
Spoonie Gee,
Half Japanese,
kango's stein massive,
Marine Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pantaleimon,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Victims,
The Golliwogs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Near,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Loose Ends,
Qualms,
Lungfish,
Procol Harum,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ralphi Rosario,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.