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 Vietnam and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Trumans Water to the rap 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare 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 snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Freddie Wadling,
China Crisis,
The Dirtbombs,
Babytalk,
Harry Pussy,
Letta Mbulu,
Minor Threat,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Toasters,
The Misunderstood,
Interpol,
Tomorrow,
Theoretical Girls,
Kurtis Blow,
Intrusion,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
EPMD,
Tubeway Army,
The Beau Brummels,
Television Personalities,
Harmonia,
Brand Nubian,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pylon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gerry Rafferty,
This Heat,
The Seeds,
The Blues Magoos,
Joyce Sims,
The Music Machine,
Agent Orange,
Oneida,
Lyres,
Sun Ra,
The Names,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
MDC,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Brothers Johnson,
Rotary Connection,
Dark Day,
Amazonics,
The Real Kids,
Public Enemy,
OOIOO,
Black Flag,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brick,
The Wake,
The Alarm Clocks,
Carl Craig,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barrington Levy,
Qualms,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.