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 Romania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lakeside to the rock 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Juan Atkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
L. Decosne,
Simply Red,
The Techniques,
Nik Kershaw,
Loose Ends,
Marine Girls,
Ohio Players,
Rakim,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soulsonic Force,
Kurtis Blow,
The Star Department,
The Sonics,
The Slackers,
Skaos,
The Blues Magoos,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Fania All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fela Kuti,
Pantaleimon,
Zero Boys,
Ice-T,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Curtis Mayfield,
Erykah Badu,
Eddi Front,
Roxette,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
The American Breed,
Cluster,
X-102,
Maleditus Sound,
the Human League,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tropical Tobacco,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Junior Murvin,
Gang of Four,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Lydon,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Oneida,
Gong,
Lower 48,
Iggy Pop,
Tomorrow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Niagra,
Ken Boothe,
Roy Ayers,
Patti Smith,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.