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 Djibouti and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Yusef Lateef to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Masters at Work,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deepchord,
LL Cool J,
Hoover,
Neil Young,
Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Whodini,
Jerry Gold Smith,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Soul II Soul,
Barclay James Harvest,
Maleditus Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Slick Rick,
Royal Trux,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Subhumans,
The Doors,
Funkadelic,
Massinfluence,
Fela Kuti,
Tom Boy,
The Red Krayola,
Gong,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rapeman,
Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Boz Scaggs,
Alphaville,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Von Mondo,
Simply Red,
Cecil Taylor,
Shoche,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Dave Clark Five,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barbara Tucker,
Lucky Dragons,
AZ,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
48th St. Collective,
The Dead C,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fall,
Spoonie Gee,
Parry Music,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.