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 Indonesia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar 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 organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Sherman,
Motorama,
Newcleus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Gories,
Excepter,
Soulsonic Force,
Mark Hollis,
Grauzone,
The Pretty Things,
The Slackers,
Bill Wells,
Reuben Wilson,
Nick Fraelich,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gastr Del Sol,
EPMD,
Danielle Patucci,
Ten City,
Drexciya,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Sister Nancy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crooked Eye,
Whodini,
The Human League,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pulsallama,
DJ Sneak,
Banda Bassotti,
Minnie Riperton,
Spandau Ballet,
AZ,
Aaron Thompson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash,
June Days,
Alton Ellis,
Das Ding,
The Golliwogs,
Kaleidoscope,
The Walker Brothers,
Panda Bear,
Bobby Byrd,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arab on Radar,
Traffic Nightmare,
Thee Headcoats,
Oblivians,
Thompson Twins,
Cal Tjader,
Gong,
Nils Olav,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pole,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.