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 Kyrgyzstan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 organ 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet 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 chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Toni Rubio,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Deepchord,
The Real Kids,
10cc,
Black Bananas,
Banda Bassotti,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
The Barracudas,
Marvin Gaye,
The Tremeloes,
Idris Muhammad,
Angry Samoans,
Spoonie Gee,
The Busters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Prince Buster,
The Move,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thompson Twins,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cal Tjader,
Gabor Szabo,
The Young Rascals,
Glenn Branca,
Ornette Coleman,
Dark Day,
PIL,
Crooked Eye,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Johnny Osbourne,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Gladiators,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
F. McDonald,
Sällskapet,
Jacques Brel,
CMW,
Robert Wyatt,
Wolf Eyes,
Audionom,
The Sound,
The Pop Group,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fat Boys,
Alphaville,
Deadbeat,
kango's stein massive,
T. Rex,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Y Pants,
Joyce Sims,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Stooges,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.