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 Russia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Au Pairs 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba 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 sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Motorama,
the Normal,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lyres,
The Moleskins,
Absolute Body Control,
Blake Baxter,
Ultra Naté,
Flipper,
David McCallum,
T.S.O.L.,
Pantaleimon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Niagra,
June of 44,
Chrome,
Darondo,
The United States of America,
Throbbing Gristle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Kinks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alton Ellis,
H. Thieme,
X-102,
Cymande,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fortunes,
Man Parrish,
10cc,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aswad,
Gang Starr,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Golliwogs,
Sonic Youth,
The J.B.'s,
The Wake,
DNA,
the Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
Brothers Johnson,
Pagans,
Sandy B,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ronan,
Judy Mowatt,
Joensuu 1685,
Funky Four + One,
F. McDonald,
Outsiders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fall,
Groovy Waters,
John Foxx,
Nick Fraelich,
X-101,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Alphaville,
Scratch Acid,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.