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 Croatia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Happenings to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 sitar 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 snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Divine Comedy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Talk Talk,
Charles Mingus,
The Doors,
Kool Moe Dee,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Zeros,
Circle Jerks,
Stiv Bators,
Boz Scaggs,
Harmonia,
Marine Girls,
Rekid,
LL Cool J,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Move,
Depeche Mode,
Skarface,
DNA,
Stetsasonic,
Bronski Beat,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Monolake,
Marcia Griffiths,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Darondo,
Lower 48,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Duran Duran,
Don Cherry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Livin' Joy,
Tears for Fears,
Whodini,
Drexciya,
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
Michelle Simonal,
Bill Near,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fire Engines,
Quantec,
Sonny Sharrock,
Laurel Aitken,
The Human League,
Minny Pops,
Das Ding,
The Happenings,
Underground Resistance,
Schoolly D,
Jacob Miller,
Young Marble Giants,
John Lydon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.