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 Cameroon and from Tokyo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 F. McDonald to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
the Human League,
John Cale,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minor Threat,
The Move,
The Mojo Men,
Q65,
Amon Düül,
Symarip,
Lalann,
Danielle Patucci,
The Remains,
Minny Pops,
Whodini,
James White and The Blacks,
Yaz,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ten City,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Section 25,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Derrick May,
Robert Hood,
Glenn Branca,
The Monochrome Set,
K-Klass,
The Count Five,
Model 500,
T.S.O.L.,
The Index,
Marc Almond,
Henry Cow,
The Moody Blues,
Marmalade,
Nirvana,
The Vogues,
The Cure,
Sparks,
Neu!,
Max Romeo,
Michelle Simonal,
Roy Ayers,
Terry Callier,
Harry Pussy,
The Associates,
Zapp,
Nas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Negative Approach,
Franke,
Fad Gadget,
The Birthday Party,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Leaves,
Warren Ellis,
New York Dolls,
The Last Poets,
Panda Bear,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Joensuu 1685,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.