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 Brunei and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Fela Kuti to the disco 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator 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 mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Japan,
Newcleus,
Al Stewart,
Funky Four + One,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minnie Riperton,
Joyce Sims,
The Gladiators,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Wyatt,
Inner City,
Cameo,
Infiniti,
The Offenders,
Camouflage,
Television Personalities,
Grauzone,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Fad Gadget,
Electric Prunes,
The Last Poets,
Aloha Tigers,
FM Einheit,
Idris Muhammad,
Parry Music,
The Skatalites,
The Moody Blues,
James White and The Blacks,
T.S.O.L.,
Saccharine Trust,
Joey Negro,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Neon Judgement,
The New Christs,
Susan Cadogan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Freddie Wadling,
Masters at Work,
Brick,
Peter & Gordon,
Main Source,
R.M.O.,
K-Klass,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Slackers,
Nick Fraelich,
Bad Manners,
Flipper,
The Zeros,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Negative Approach,
Dawn Penn,
Absolute Body Control,
The Human League,
Gichy Dan,
The Gap Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.