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 Laos and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Raincoats to the rap 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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord 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 guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Bob Dylan,
DJ Sneak,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
Reuben Wilson,
The Mummies,
Funky Four + One,
Black Flag,
David McCallum,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cowsills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eden Ahbez,
Underground Resistance,
Joey Negro,
June of 44,
The Gories,
cv313,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Saccharine Trust,
New Order,
The Real Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tom Boy,
The Monochrome Set,
Royal Trux,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Selecter,
Pulsallama,
Ornette Coleman,
Radiohead,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nas,
the Association,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Sonics,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
LL Cool J,
Marmalade,
kango's stein massive,
Youth Brigade,
Donny Hathaway,
Siglo XX,
The Barracudas,
The Litter,
Pere Ubu,
Essential Logic,
The Fortunes,
Los Fastidios,
Piero Umiliani,
Rosa Yemen,
UT,
The Fugs,
The Toasters,
Easy Going,
Moebius,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Womack,
Neu!,
Aloha Tigers,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.