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 Oman and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord 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 arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Yellowson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Quadrant,
Judy Mowatt,
Amon Düül,
CMW,
Toni Rubio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Wyatt,
Scott Walker,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Star Department,
Flipper,
Minutemen,
Ituana,
Sound Behaviour,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Monks,
DNA,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
The Gun Club,
Pulsallama,
Eurythmics,
The Fortunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Barry Ungar,
Swans,
Skriet,
Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Donald Byrd,
Camberwell Now,
The Raincoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television Personalities,
Index,
KRS-One,
Cal Tjader,
Deepchord,
John Lydon,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Martian,
EPMD,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lindisfarne,
Maleditus Sound,
Inner City,
Warren Ellis,
Mission of Burma,
Yazoo,
The Gladiators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sight & Sound,
The Red Krayola,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.