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 Nauru and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Dice to the electroclash 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord 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 marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
The Monks,
Byron Stingily,
Funkadelic,
Donny Hathaway,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cramps,
The Mummies,
cv313,
The Associates,
Sexual Harrassment,
Letta Mbulu,
Wire,
Metal Thangz,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Alison Limerick,
Jandek,
Goldenarms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Kinks,
The New Christs,
Mars,
Roxette,
Stiv Bators,
Gong,
Eddi Front,
Robert Görl,
The Misunderstood,
The Happenings,
Barbara Tucker,
MDC,
Avey Tare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lower 48,
Fatback Band,
Tommy Roe,
Hoover,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Little Man,
Quadrant,
Swans,
Suburban Knight,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Selecter,
The Gladiators,
Boz Scaggs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Pus,
Scientists,
Make Up,
Motorama,
The Fugs,
The Knickerbockers,
Public Enemy,
Freddie Wadling,
Adolescents,
Radio Birdman,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.