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 Indonesia and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Rakim to the jazz 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet 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 snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
The Slits,
The Pretty Things,
D'Angelo,
Connie Case,
Scion,
Khruangbin,
La Düsseldorf,
Q65,
Harry Pussy,
Nirvana,
Basic Channel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Young Rascals,
Pylon,
Parry Music,
Minor Threat,
New Order,
Agitation Free,
Black Bananas,
Nik Kershaw,
The Grass Roots,
Liliput,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rapeman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chrome,
Mark Hollis,
Simply Red,
Excepter,
Clear Light,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed,
Theoretical Girls,
Pussy Galore,
kango's stein massive,
The Monochrome Set,
Derrick May,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hoover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Doobie Brothers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Audionom,
Colin Newman,
Albert Ayler,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boredoms,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Monks,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alice Coltrane,
cv313,
The Alarm Clocks,
Television Personalities,
Junior Murvin,
T. Rex,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalann,
F. McDonald,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.