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 Uruguay and from Halifax.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator 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 clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Newcleus,
The Dirtbombs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Section 25,
Intrusion,
Urselle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Popol Vuh,
Mr. Review,
The Beau Brummels,
David Axelrod,
Shoche,
Susan Cadogan,
Rapeman,
FM Einheit,
Metal Thangz,
The Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Tears for Fears,
Sun City Girls,
The Selecter,
Lucky Dragons,
Alton Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
These Immortal Souls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deepchord,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fire Engines,
Skaos,
Jesper Dahlback,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marmalade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
World's Most,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Patti Smith,
Hardrive,
The Birthday Party,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Agent Orange,
Aloha Tigers,
Qualms,
Graham Central Station,
Kas Product,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Country Teasers,
Sparks,
Amon Düül II,
DNA,
Sex Pistols,
Alphaville,
Wire,
48th St. Collective,
Deakin,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wolf Eyes,
Quantec,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.