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 Tonga and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crash Course in Science to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ 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 arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Swell Maps,
Radio Birdman,
Chris Corsano,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sound Behaviour,
Kaleidoscope,
Eurythmics,
Parry Music,
K-Klass,
Reagan Youth,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Sherman,
Ohio Players,
Sight & Sound,
Fat Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
The Mummies,
Kenny Larkin,
Warsaw,
B.T. Express,
Yazoo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Negative Approach,
Joe Smooth,
Cheater Slicks,
Country Teasers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
EPMD,
The Motions,
Patti Smith,
Bang On A Can,
Neil Young,
Al Stewart,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Andrew Hill,
X-Ray Spex,
Roxy Music,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Japan,
The Cowsills,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ronan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick May,
Rekid,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Durutti Column,
Alison Limerick,
Lyres,
KRS-One,
Trumans Water,
Outsiders,
D'Angelo,
Quando Quango,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Blackbyrds,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.