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 South Sudan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Spandau Ballet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lucky Dragons,
Kerri Chandler,
Simply Red,
Brass Construction,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bush Tetras,
The Cramps,
Accadde A,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Names,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
Funky Four + One,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Motorama,
DNA,
Au Pairs,
Curtis Mayfield,
One Last Wish,
The Durutti Column,
UT,
Rhythm & Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonic Youth,
The Dirtbombs,
Don Cherry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
The United States of America,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hasil Adkins,
Dorothy Ashby,
David McCallum,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Red Krayola,
Minny Pops,
David Axelrod,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scan 7,
Bob Dylan,
Mantronix,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Groovy Waters,
Mars,
Joensuu 1685,
Joyce Sims,
Model 500,
Quantec,
Nico,
Hot Snakes,
The Grass Roots,
The Invisible,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang Green,
Ossler,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.