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 Portugal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Womack to the electroclash 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ 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 arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
The Pretty Things,
New York Dolls,
Reuben Wilson,
Minny Pops,
Cal Tjader,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Neon Judgement,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monolake,
Public Enemy,
Popol Vuh,
Metal Thangz,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Byrd,
The Beau Brummels,
Susan Cadogan,
Jawbox,
Sixth Finger,
Gong,
Kerri Chandler,
Don Cherry,
Massinfluence,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Matthew Bourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Litter,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Swans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ken Boothe,
Dark Day,
UT,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scientists,
The Dead C,
Depeche Mode,
Gang Starr,
Eli Mardock,
Morten Harket,
Vainqueur,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Moon,
Terry Callier,
Section 25,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Unwound,
Cluster,
Tim Buckley,
The Dirtbombs,
The Slits,
The Fall,
Roxette,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Los Fastidios,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
Eric Copeland,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.