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 Tonga and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 New Christs to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Television,
Bill Near,
Carl Craig,
Deakin,
Jandek,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barrington Levy,
Scion,
One Last Wish,
Ultra Naté,
Malaria!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Derrick May,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Model 500,
Letta Mbulu,
Moss Icon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roxette,
X-Ray Spex,
the Human League,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hot Snakes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Womack,
The Beau Brummels,
Black Bananas,
Accadde A,
kango's stein massive,
The Slits,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slackers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pagans,
Don Cherry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ohio Players,
The Misunderstood,
The Black Dice,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arcadia,
Ken Boothe,
Moby Grape,
World's Most,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Junior Murvin,
the Swans,
Rotary Connection,
Pere Ubu,
the Slits,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Anthony Braxton,
Gabor Szabo,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.