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 Saudi Arabia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Basic Channel 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
MDC,
Marshall Jefferson,
Suicide,
The Trojans,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Stereo Dub,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultravox,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ludus,
The Victims,
Althea and Donna,
Eurythmics,
The Buckinghams,
FM Einheit,
Young Marble Giants,
The Modern Lovers,
Cybotron,
Bad Manners,
Charles Mingus,
Bronski Beat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44,
Robert Wyatt,
Clear Light,
Pere Ubu,
The American Breed,
Sound Behaviour,
Funky Four + One,
Swell Maps,
Slick Rick,
The Young Rascals,
Radiohead,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stetsasonic,
Basic Channel,
The Doors,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fall,
ABBA,
The Gladiators,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mars,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Johnny Osbourne,
Janne Schatter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
One Last Wish,
the Association,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
Wasted Youth,
Index,
Marine Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacques Brel,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.