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 Colombia and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pretty Things to the grunge 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ 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 synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
X-Ray Spex,
Trumans Water,
The American Breed,
Bush Tetras,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Motions,
Hasil Adkins,
Crooked Eye,
Maurizio,
The Blackbyrds,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Patti Smith,
Magma,
Severed Heads,
Oneida,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moby Grape,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nik Kershaw,
Derrick Morgan,
Erykah Badu,
Prince Buster,
Pantytec,
Interpol,
Average White Band,
Pylon,
Fear,
The Happenings,
Soulsonic Force,
Pole,
Agitation Free,
Godley & Creme,
the Human League,
Accadde A,
Mr. Review,
The New Christs,
New Order,
Cymande,
Sonny Sharrock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Supertramp,
James White and The Blacks,
Metal Thangz,
Bang On A Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobby Sherman,
Goldenarms,
Grauzone,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joyce Sims,
Kas Product,
Lakeside,
Jeff Lynne,
Ponytail,
Mission of Burma,
Moebius,
ABBA,
Sound Behaviour,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.