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 Malawi and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pop Group to the punk 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb 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 güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rekid,
The Dirtbombs,
Zapp,
Accadde A,
Stereo Dub,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Bar-Kays,
Howard Jones,
L. Decosne,
Roxy Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Suburban Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Boredoms,
Arthur Verocai,
the Normal,
Juan Atkins,
Deepchord,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Siglo XX,
Subhumans,
Robert Görl,
Sugar Minott,
Grauzone,
Tom Boy,
Black Pus,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jerry's Kids,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cymande,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barclay James Harvest,
Al Stewart,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Scan 7,
Faraquet,
These Immortal Souls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Archie Shepp,
Alton Ellis,
Pulsallama,
The Young Rascals,
Soul II Soul,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Red Krayola,
Sparks,
Arab on Radar,
Infiniti,
Ken Boothe,
Niagra,
Model 500,
B.T. Express,
the Association,
The Five Americans,
The Divine Comedy,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.