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 Kiribati and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the grime 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar 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 organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Red Krayola,
Pussy Galore,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Subhumans,
The Gun Club,
Matthew Bourne,
Wire,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lightning Bolt,
Susan Cadogan,
Grey Daturas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bronski Beat,
Q65,
The Monks,
Nirvana,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Thompson Twins,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
The Motions,
the Bar-Kays,
Nils Olav,
Henry Cow,
Television,
Index,
Au Pairs,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Sound Behaviour,
Kool Moe Dee,
Babytalk,
The Angels of Light,
Godley & Creme,
The Misunderstood,
Country Teasers,
Deakin,
June of 44,
Altered Images,
The Seeds,
Peter and Kerry,
Animal Collective,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Half Japanese,
Deadbeat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Smiths,
The Black Dice,
The Cure,
Echospace,
Harry Pussy,
Duran Duran,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.