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 Indonesia and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ken Boothe to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 a spring reverb 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 güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
The Golliwogs,
The Leaves,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bauhaus,
Fad Gadget,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crime,
Eric B and Rakim,
a-ha,
The Toasters,
Minutemen,
Pharoah Sanders,
Chris & Cosey,
The Associates,
the Human League,
Ornette Coleman,
Derrick May,
Black Flag,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bronski Beat,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hashim,
The Wake,
The Gories,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Halsall,
The Stooges,
Babytalk,
Motorama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Icehouse,
Amon Düül II,
The Cramps,
Rod Modell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Sherman,
Procol Harum,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yaz,
Fluxion,
Toni Rubio,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Offenders,
H. Thieme,
kango's stein massive,
Scientists,
Monolake,
Wally Richardson,
Spoonie Gee,
Fatback Band,
Franke,
Peter & Gordon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Whodini,
Althea and Donna,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.