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 Gabon and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Blues Magoos to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron 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 marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Interpol,
Max Romeo,
Peter and Kerry,
The American Breed,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed,
Youth Brigade,
Byron Stingily,
Suicide,
Mandrill,
Brick,
World's Most,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Normal,
Amazonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott Heron,
Y Pants,
The Monochrome Set,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rekid,
Oblivians,
The Blackbyrds,
One Last Wish,
Grey Daturas,
Michelle Simonal,
The Busters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Altered Images,
The Standells,
Talk Talk,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Moon,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Yellowson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rites of Spring,
Can,
The J.B.'s,
Pere Ubu,
Joe Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Tremeloes,
Bootsy Collins,
The Associates,
Sex Pistols,
Dennis Brown,
Unwound,
Magazine,
The New Christs,
Theoretical Girls,
Eric Dolphy,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.