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 the UAE and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ultimate Spinach to the rap 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brass Construction,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Associates,
The Fuzztones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Newcleus,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Das Ding,
The Moleskins,
Stockholm Monsters,
Reagan Youth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Porter Ricks,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bronski Beat,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Grass Roots,
Brand Nubian,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Don Cherry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Soft Cell,
New York Dolls,
B.T. Express,
The Blackbyrds,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Thee Headcoats,
Neu!,
cv313,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Archie Shepp,
Flipper,
Scratch Acid,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Goldenarms,
The Standells,
Sam Rivers,
The Durutti Column,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moody Blues,
The Music Machine,
Tres Demented,
Basic Channel,
Yellowson,
Desert Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Intrusion,
X-Ray Spex,
Sparks,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.