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 Albania and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Andrew Hill to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 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 oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dave Gahan,
Little Man,
Wasted Youth,
The Barracudas,
the Bar-Kays,
T.S.O.L.,
Tubeway Army,
Barbara Tucker,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Malaria!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Second Layer,
Andrew Hill,
Qualms,
Camberwell Now,
Gong,
Howard Jones,
Oneida,
Leonard Cohen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Warren Ellis,
Massinfluence,
Eric Copeland,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Quando Quango,
Blancmange,
Gastr Del Sol,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
The Index,
Minutemen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
F. McDonald,
June Days,
Quadrant,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
The Gap Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Evens,
The Golliwogs,
Eden Ahbez,
The Invisible,
Delta 5,
The Moleskins,
FM Einheit,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Birthday Party,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dirtbombs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Amazonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Echospace,
X-102,
The Cramps,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.