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 Luxembourg and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Banda Bassotti to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a mellotron 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 theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barrington Levy,
Bush Tetras,
Minnie Riperton,
The Invisible,
the Fania All-Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Heaven 17,
Rapeman,
Stiv Bators,
Bang On A Can,
The Mummies,
The Electric Prunes,
Tears for Fears,
The Motions,
Darondo,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fortunes,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fire Engines,
Mars,
Flash Fearless,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sparks,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Byrd,
Chris & Cosey,
The Last Poets,
Brass Construction,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Neon Judgement,
EPMD,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gories,
Severed Heads,
Ossler,
Anthony Braxton,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cramps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Eve St. Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
Popol Vuh,
The Fall,
Trumans Water,
Cecil Taylor,
Deadbeat,
Schoolly D,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Busters,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed,
Moebius,
The Knickerbockers,
the Bar-Kays,
Chrome,
The Alarm Clocks,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.