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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Reuben Wilson,
Das Ding,
Joy Division,
Fat Boys,
The Gladiators,
Oblivians,
Banda Bassotti,
Brand Nubian,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Coltrane,
The Techniques,
The Young Rascals,
Severed Heads,
Hashim,
Funky Four + One,
The Cowsills,
Moss Icon,
Black Bananas,
June Days,
Cluster,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Sarah Menescal,
Royal Trux,
The Sonics,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crooked Eye,
Eve St. Jones,
Altered Images,
Sound Behaviour,
The Moleskins,
Crime,
Hoover,
Rufus Thomas,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pulsallama,
Lyres,
Bobby Byrd,
Fifty Foot Hose,
R.M.O.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Robert Wyatt,
the Normal,
Derrick Morgan,
Eurythmics,
Rapeman,
Slick Rick,
Nas,
Flash Fearless,
Throbbing Gristle,
Yazoo,
Flipper,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scan 7,
Ituana,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Seeds,
Fela Kuti,
Alice Coltrane,
K-Klass,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.