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 Micronesia and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Detroit Cobras to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a theremin 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 clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Essential Logic,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Hood,
Fat Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
Dennis Brown,
Ludus,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flipper,
Davy DMX,
Ultimate Spinach,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Womack,
Camouflage,
John Cale,
Sam Rivers,
Drexciya,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jacques Brel,
Pere Ubu,
F. McDonald,
the Human League,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Human League,
Graham Central Station,
Bronski Beat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wally Richardson,
The Divine Comedy,
Rakim,
Excepter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cecil Taylor,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Pretty Things,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Litter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quadrant,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rufus Thomas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Max Romeo,
Barbara Tucker,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pantytec,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Television,
Make Up,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Sällskapet,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.