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 Mauritius and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Young Marble Giants to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cramps. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum 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 sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
DNA,
Model 500,
Duran Duran,
The Barracudas,
Robert Wyatt,
Pylon,
The Buckinghams,
Pagans,
Groovy Waters,
Wolf Eyes,
Terry Callier,
Tears for Fears,
Roxette,
Supertramp,
Stetsasonic,
Blake Baxter,
The Standells,
The Seeds,
John Lydon,
Parry Music,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Al Stewart,
Hoover,
the Human League,
Alison Limerick,
Janne Schatter,
Barry Ungar,
The Invisible,
Gang of Four,
Yazoo,
Connie Case,
Lee Hazlewood,
Vladislav Delay,
OOIOO,
The Moody Blues,
A Certain Ratio,
Suicide,
the Slits,
Joe Finger,
Jerry's Kids,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
ABC,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Grauzone,
Can,
Public Enemy,
Shoche,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alphaville,
Gichy Dan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Warsaw,
Bootsy Collins,
B.T. Express,
Henry Cow,
a-ha,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.