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 Tuvalu and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the dance 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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a theremin 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 snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Au Pairs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Camberwell Now,
Suburban Knight,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joyce Sims,
8 Eyed Spy,
Trumans Water,
Mr. Review,
The Star Department,
Morten Harket,
kango's stein massive,
Alphaville,
Juan Atkins,
Subhumans,
Bill Wells,
Stockholm Monsters,
Davy DMX,
The Modern Lovers,
DJ Style,
Vladislav Delay,
Steve Hackett,
Marc Almond,
Aloha Tigers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Warsaw,
The Offenders,
The Smiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Scrapy,
Gang of Four,
Rapeman,
One Last Wish,
Black Flag,
Rod Modell,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roger Hodgson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wings,
Television,
The Fortunes,
Lou Christie,
The American Breed,
Liliput,
Surgeon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cure,
David McCallum,
Yusef Lateef,
Tres Demented,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Icehouse,
Kevin Saunderson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Albert Ayler,
Nico,
Symarip,
Heaven 17,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.