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 Saudi Arabia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Popol Vuh to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Byron Stingily,
Ronan,
Cheater Slicks,
The Monks,
Barry Ungar,
Bizarre Inc.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rakim,
The Remains,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jandek,
Bobby Byrd,
Nirvana,
Pussy Galore,
Delta 5,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radio Birdman,
Slave,
Basic Channel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blake Baxter,
Minnie Riperton,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Wake,
Harry Pussy,
The Slits,
Steve Hackett,
Sister Nancy,
Fear,
John Foxx,
Derrick Morgan,
Babytalk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cymande,
Tom Boy,
Roxy Music,
Scrapy,
Tears for Fears,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fuzztones,
Dorothy Ashby,
Idris Muhammad,
Rapeman,
Accadde A,
Fat Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Interpol,
Moebius,
Alton Ellis,
Morten Harket,
The Modern Lovers,
Funky Four + One,
Brothers Johnson,
Sugar Minott,
Don Cherry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.