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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Camberwell Now to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Leaves,
Bad Manners,
Cecil Taylor,
Rosa Yemen,
Dave Gahan,
Minutemen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
X-Ray Spex,
The Skatalites,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Blake Baxter,
Jacob Miller,
Cybotron,
10cc,
Scientists,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Saints,
Mr. Review,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Gang Gang Dance,
Judy Mowatt,
Prince Buster,
Scrapy,
B.T. Express,
Barrington Levy,
Theoretical Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Ronnie Foster,
R.M.O.,
Fad Gadget,
Minnie Riperton,
Liliput,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Toni Rubio,
Country Teasers,
Mandrill,
Todd Terry,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Von Mondo,
The Mummies,
Outsiders,
Warsaw,
The Music Machine,
The Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
Suburban Knight,
Girls At Our Best!,
Al Stewart,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Second Layer,
New York Dolls,
Glenn Branca,
Stiv Bators,
Wally Richardson,
Audionom,
Stetsasonic,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.