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 Zimbabwe and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes 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 a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Wally Richardson,
Spandau Ballet,
Cecil Taylor,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Brothers Johnson,
Public Enemy,
Deakin,
Gil Scott Heron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Das Ding,
Quantec,
Joy Division,
Mission of Burma,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Idris Muhammad,
Eve St. Jones,
The Moleskins,
Bluetip,
Rotary Connection,
Juan Atkins,
Niagra,
The Searchers,
The United States of America,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blake Baxter,
Roger Hodgson,
Tommy Roe,
Popol Vuh,
Toni Rubio,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Grey Daturas,
Freddie Wadling,
Malaria!,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Bananas,
The Sonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Dennis Brown,
The Trojans,
Derrick May,
The Beau Brummels,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The J.B.'s,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sugar Minott,
Half Japanese,
the Germs,
Black Sheep,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
Stetsasonic,
Jeff Mills,
Shoche,
Peter and Kerry,
Dave Gahan,
Scott Walker,
The Fugs,
Brass Construction,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.