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 Guatemala and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Parry Music to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Darondo,
The Count Five,
Icehouse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pussy Galore,
Easy Going,
Lindisfarne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Judy Mowatt,
Qualms,
Al Stewart,
Ohio Players,
New York Dolls,
The Doors,
Byron Stingily,
U.S. Maple,
The Associates,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tom Boy,
Lou Reed,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Skaos,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barrington Levy,
Ossler,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Red Krayola,
the Association,
New Order,
The Dave Clark Five,
Piero Umiliani,
Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Amon Düül,
The Evens,
Symarip,
Scratch Acid,
Joyce Sims,
Crime,
Terry Callier,
Animal Collective,
The Tremeloes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Young Marble Giants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Motorama,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
Section 25,
X-Ray Spex,
Masters at Work,
World's Most,
Susan Cadogan,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.