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 Tajikistan and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Funky Four + One to the rap 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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a mellotron 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 chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moby Grape,
Man Eating Sloth,
Theoretical Girls,
Porter Ricks,
Franke,
Blancmange,
Swans,
Toni Rubio,
The Beau Brummels,
Monolake,
World's Most,
Colin Newman,
Brick,
the Slits,
The Toasters,
Gichy Dan,
Country Teasers,
Tres Demented,
Bang On A Can,
Reuben Wilson,
The Music Machine,
Zapp,
The Human League,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anthony Braxton,
The Blackbyrds,
The Slits,
Symarip,
Fad Gadget,
Harmonia,
Scrapy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Todd Terry,
Hot Snakes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Nas,
The Happenings,
Organ,
Danielle Patucci,
Wasted Youth,
Leonard Cohen,
Vladislav Delay,
Procol Harum,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Neu!,
The Saints,
Aloha Tigers,
K-Klass,
The Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs,
New Age Steppers,
48th St. Collective,
Dennis Brown,
The Searchers,
Qualms,
Stiv Bators,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Andrew Hill,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.