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 San Marino and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manchester.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Livin' Joy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro 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 theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Talk Talk,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Womack,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Move,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
Erasure,
ABC,
Albert Ayler,
48th St. Collective,
Ralphi Rosario,
Faust,
Ultra Naté,
The Associates,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Knickerbockers,
Mo-Dettes,
Sällskapet,
X-102,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crime,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Dead C,
Jeff Lynne,
Scan 7,
The Victims,
Warsaw,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pussy Galore,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deakin,
The Real Kids,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
Crooked Eye,
Unwound,
Fat Boys,
FM Einheit,
Tres Demented,
Visage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brick,
Skarface,
Eric Copeland,
Dawn Penn,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang Green,
Inner City,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rekid,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sound Behaviour,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Con Funk Shun,
Erykah Badu,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.