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 Solomon Islands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rosa Yemen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a sitar 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?
The Searchers,
Arthur Verocai,
China Crisis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Darondo,
Nils Olav,
Robert Hood,
Alice Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Doors,
Matthew Bourne,
The Move,
Quadrant,
Second Layer,
Ronan,
Lucky Dragons,
Newcleus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Desert Stars,
The Leaves,
World's Most,
Boz Scaggs,
T. Rex,
Wolf Eyes,
Connie Case,
Rufus Thomas,
Los Fastidios,
Nick Fraelich,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kaleidoscope,
Black Bananas,
Moby Grape,
Q and Not U,
Soft Machine,
The Toasters,
L. Decosne,
Flamin' Groovies,
Von Mondo,
Colin Newman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Franke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crash Course in Science,
Angry Samoans,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kayak,
Pagans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bush Tetras,
Alison Limerick,
Isaac Hayes,
H. Thieme,
Albert Ayler,
Patti Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Neu!,
Charles Mingus,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.