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 Gambia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a snare 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 an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Vogues,
L. Decosne,
Newcleus,
Chrome,
Bob Dylan,
Main Source,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Camberwell Now,
Lucky Dragons,
Harry Pussy,
The Fuzztones,
Rufus Thomas,
Country Teasers,
The Gap Band,
Pussy Galore,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lindisfarne,
Sun City Girls,
The Mojo Men,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aural Exciters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Foxx,
Cecil Taylor,
Grauzone,
Sound Behaviour,
Aloha Tigers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mr. Review,
Wally Richardson,
Magma,
Ornette Coleman,
Reagan Youth,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yaz,
Ultra Naté,
Pere Ubu,
World's Most,
Q and Not U,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kaleidoscope,
The J.B.'s,
Wolf Eyes,
The Searchers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Supertramp,
Television,
Easy Going,
Patti Smith,
Roger Hodgson,
Public Enemy,
Jacob Miller,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lakeside,
Half Japanese,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Idris Muhammad,
John Lydon,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.