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 Paraguay and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alice Coltrane to the jazz 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer 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 rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
The Beau Brummels,
the Sonics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mad Mike,
David Axelrod,
Q65,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Sherman,
The Motions,
Absolute Body Control,
Dawn Penn,
Severed Heads,
The Offenders,
Hoover,
Procol Harum,
Ronnie Foster,
Deepchord,
Quadrant,
kango's stein massive,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
Fatback Band,
Swell Maps,
Lungfish,
Mr. Review,
The Skatalites,
Stiv Bators,
Spoonie Gee,
Shuggie Otis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
Cybotron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Siglo XX,
Make Up,
Blossom Toes,
Drexciya,
Grauzone,
Pantytec,
Crash Course in Science,
Pussy Galore,
Pulsallama,
The Remains,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lower 48,
Josef K,
Idris Muhammad,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jeff Lynne,
Pylon,
Joy Division,
Camouflage,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ken Boothe,
Graham Central Station,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.