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 Denmark and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Roy Ayers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare 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 linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Buzzcocks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kenny Larkin,
Moebius,
Tom Boy,
Scrapy,
Eurythmics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Donald Byrd,
Swans,
The Wake,
Todd Terry,
Hashim,
AZ,
The Human League,
Half Japanese,
Howard Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Ossler,
The Fugs,
Index,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Terry Callier,
Barrington Levy,
Alison Limerick,
The Gun Club,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Janne Schatter,
The Selecter,
Gang Starr,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
The Litter,
Gang of Four,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fortunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Red Krayola,
Alice Coltrane,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Wolf Eyes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kerri Chandler,
Section 25,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scott Walker,
Leonard Cohen,
Sam Rivers,
Jeff Lynne,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.