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 Marshall Islands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric B and Rakim to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer 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 guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Slackers,
New Age Steppers,
Bauhaus,
Arab on Radar,
The Fall,
Jeff Mills,
Byron Stingily,
Scientists,
Subhumans,
the Germs,
48th St. Collective,
The Misunderstood,
Sugar Minott,
Kayak,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Von Mondo,
The Birthday Party,
Andrew Hill,
The Offenders,
John Lydon,
KRS-One,
Ponytail,
Au Pairs,
Derrick May,
The United States of America,
Yusef Lateef,
The Velvet Underground,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott Heron,
Main Source,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Style,
MDC,
Sex Pistols,
Freddie Wadling,
Fela Kuti,
Delon & Dalcan,
Saccharine Trust,
June Days,
Boredoms,
Sam Rivers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Danielle Patucci,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Faraquet,
Wire,
Electric Prunes,
The Last Poets,
Ituana,
Stetsasonic,
UT,
Sound Behaviour,
Youth Brigade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Yellowson,
the Soft Cell,
Buzzcocks,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.