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 Guinea-Bissau and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron 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 rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
OOIOO,
Cymande,
Kerrie Biddell,
Motorama,
Heaven 17,
Althea and Donna,
The Monks,
Reuben Wilson,
Lightning Bolt,
Quantec,
Spoonie Gee,
Bill Near,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Juan Atkins,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DJ Style,
Wolf Eyes,
Ten City,
the Slits,
The Techniques,
Terrestrial Tones,
These Immortal Souls,
Neu!,
The Skatalites,
MDC,
Pantytec,
Joe Finger,
Faraquet,
Lucky Dragons,
Alison Limerick,
Sam Rivers,
David McCallum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Suicide,
Cybotron,
Wasted Youth,
Das Ding,
Organ,
ABC,
Crime,
The Wake,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
Bobby Womack,
R.M.O.,
Andrew Hill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lindisfarne,
Donald Byrd,
The American Breed,
Con Funk Shun,
The Misunderstood,
Mark Hollis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Television Personalities,
Jerry's Kids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Normal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.