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 Panama and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Alphaville to the punk 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba 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 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Drexciya,
U.S. Maple,
Severed Heads,
Amon Düül,
Guru Guru,
Ken Boothe,
Brick,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Can,
The Fugs,
Blancmange,
Jawbox,
The Victims,
Qualms,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Sherman,
The Real Kids,
Robert Görl,
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Suburban Knight,
John Lydon,
Matthew Halsall,
Sparks,
Peter & Gordon,
Chris & Cosey,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Duran Duran,
Tropical Tobacco,
Saccharine Trust,
Bizarre Inc.,
Quando Quango,
Girls At Our Best!,
Monks,
Man Parrish,
The Gun Club,
Crispy Ambulance,
Matthew Bourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Red Krayola,
Letta Mbulu,
Pulsallama,
B.T. Express,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Coltrane,
The Happenings,
Royal Trux,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kayak,
John Foxx,
Hashim,
Bush Tetras,
The Mummies,
Nik Kershaw,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
The Buckinghams,
Josef K,
Roxy Music,
Bad Manners,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.