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 Sri Lanka and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Soul II Soul 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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba 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 a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
Sex Pistols,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Second Layer,
Black Moon,
Severed Heads,
Davy DMX,
Rapeman,
The New Christs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Television,
Japan,
Blake Baxter,
Connie Case,
The Fall,
The Blues Magoos,
The Invisible,
Lucky Dragons,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Technova,
The Evens,
Mars,
The Human League,
The Move,
Pierre Henry,
The Knickerbockers,
Sandy B,
Banda Bassotti,
Marc Almond,
the Germs,
Joe Finger,
The Shadows of Knight,
CMW,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Section 25,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gang of Four,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker,
Donny Hathaway,
Livin' Joy,
Max Romeo,
The Toasters,
Audionom,
Roger Hodgson,
the Swans,
Blossom Toes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kas Product,
Warren Ellis,
MC5,
Eric Dolphy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.