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 Senegal and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pretty Things to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet 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 güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Massinfluence,
The Cure,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rekid,
The Leaves,
The Kinks,
Buzzcocks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
the Association,
Accadde A,
Vainqueur,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rapeman,
Amazonics,
The Doors,
Suicide,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Spandau Ballet,
Bluetip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
The Associates,
Interpol,
Kerri Chandler,
Fatback Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Quando Quango,
The Pop Group,
Smog,
The Victims,
Saccharine Trust,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Hood,
Black Bananas,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Franke,
Audionom,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Man Eating Sloth,
In Retrospect,
Easy Going,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nas,
the Human League,
Skaos,
The Young Rascals,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mark Hollis,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Saints,
The Real Kids,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gang Green,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Monks,
Monolake,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.