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 Zimbabwe and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Darondo to the rock 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba 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 a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
The Human League,
The Monochrome Set,
The J.B.'s,
Scrapy,
Public Image Ltd.,
The New Christs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dual Sessions,
The Sound,
Mad Mike,
Japan,
Gang of Four,
June Days,
The Standells,
Thompson Twins,
Eddi Front,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Grass Roots,
Loose Ends,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Wyatt,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Charles Mingus,
Andrew Hill,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Graham Central Station,
Sixth Finger,
Bang On A Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Red Krayola,
Moss Icon,
China Crisis,
LL Cool J,
Dead Boys,
Eric Dolphy,
Spandau Ballet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Wake,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mission of Burma,
Shuggie Otis,
The Associates,
The Dirtbombs,
Sugar Minott,
Youth Brigade,
Gichy Dan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Newcleus,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bronski Beat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Supertramp,
Harry Pussy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Livin' Joy,
KRS-One,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ornette Coleman,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.