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 Congo and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 EPMD to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer 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 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Alton Ellis,
Soft Cell,
Banda Bassotti,
Lyres,
Lakeside,
Prince Buster,
Duran Duran,
Sun City Girls,
Hashim,
Eden Ahbez,
Saccharine Trust,
Ohio Players,
Eddi Front,
Interpol,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mummies,
Tomorrow,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Trojans,
Hoover,
Crispy Ambulance,
China Crisis,
Kevin Saunderson,
Anthony Braxton,
James White and The Blacks,
John Coltrane,
The Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mission of Burma,
Simply Red,
Popol Vuh,
Maleditus Sound,
Flamin' Groovies,
Motorama,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
Groovy Waters,
Bad Manners,
Deakin,
Avey Tare,
Organ,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Parry Music,
Danielle Patucci,
Deadbeat,
the Normal,
The United States of America,
Soul II Soul,
Sugar Minott,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grey Daturas,
Dawn Penn,
Main Source,
The Pretty Things,
The Index,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.