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 Burkina and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare 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 guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Piero Umiliani,
Dave Gahan,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispian St. Peters,
Althea and Donna,
Niagra,
Goldenarms,
Swell Maps,
Howard Jones,
Ultravox,
The Electric Prunes,
Nils Olav,
Bluetip,
World's Most,
Make Up,
Buzzcocks,
Bob Dylan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
X-101,
Moebius,
The Blackbyrds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Icehouse,
Kenny Larkin,
Gong,
Patti Smith,
Mr. Review,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mars,
Youth Brigade,
Banda Bassotti,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vladislav Delay,
Jacob Miller,
Cal Tjader,
The Beau Brummels,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Alton Ellis,
Tres Demented,
In Retrospect,
Silicon Teens,
Terry Callier,
Ice-T,
The Detroit Cobras,
Monolake,
Sparks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harry Pussy,
Roxette,
Television,
the Germs,
U.S. Maple,
Magazine,
Faraquet,
Los Fastidios,
Henry Cow,
Porter Ricks,
Au Pairs,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.