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 Samoa and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Slick Rick to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish 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 an arpeggiator 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 theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
In Retrospect,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
D'Angelo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Theoretical Girls,
Tres Demented,
ABC,
Y Pants,
Eurythmics,
The Human League,
Matthew Bourne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Idris Muhammad,
Dorothy Ashby,
Das Ding,
Motorama,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Underground Resistance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lee Hazlewood,
Peter & Gordon,
Fad Gadget,
The Tremeloes,
Inner City,
The Pretty Things,
Mr. Review,
The Real Kids,
Outsiders,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Magma,
Andrew Hill,
The Happenings,
Delta 5,
The Fall,
Boz Scaggs,
The Angels of Light,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Normal,
Silicon Teens,
The Five Americans,
Blossom Toes,
The Fugs,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Sherman,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Newcleus,
DNA,
Jacob Miller,
Aswad,
Avey Tare,
Joyce Sims,
DJ Style,
Dennis Brown,
Suburban Knight,
F. McDonald,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.