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 Kiribati and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 John Lydon to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 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 sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Au Pairs,
Fad Gadget,
Scrapy,
Kaleidoscope,
Henry Cow,
The Misunderstood,
Yusef Lateef,
Sex Pistols,
a-ha,
Porter Ricks,
Bluetip,
The Moody Blues,
Franke,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Red Krayola,
Tubeway Army,
Wally Richardson,
Maurizio,
Amazonics,
The Skatalites,
Pulsallama,
The Grass Roots,
The Fall,
John Lydon,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Shadows of Knight,
MDC,
Amon Düül II,
Animal Collective,
Joensuu 1685,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spoonie Gee,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Livin' Joy,
The Motions,
Gregory Isaacs,
Intrusion,
John Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
Q65,
Stiv Bators,
Vladislav Delay,
The Angels of Light,
Camberwell Now,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Toasters,
Loose Ends,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Terry,
Echospace,
The Techniques,
The Stooges,
Toni Rubio,
The Barracudas,
Kenny Larkin,
The Zeros,
Bobby Sherman,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.