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 Seychelles and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Wally Richardson to the techno 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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare 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 organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Adolescents,
Suburban Knight,
Robert Görl,
Ken Boothe,
B.T. Express,
Don Cherry,
Unwound,
The Beau Brummels,
Ossler,
Lyres,
Mad Mike,
Roy Ayers,
Guru Guru,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Y Pants,
Lucky Dragons,
Aural Exciters,
Donny Hathaway,
Bang On A Can,
Hot Snakes,
Rosa Yemen,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suicide,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sister Nancy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Piero Umiliani,
Al Stewart,
Echospace,
cv313,
Thompson Twins,
Scott Walker,
Tom Boy,
Rapeman,
Q65,
Blake Baxter,
The Offenders,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Sherman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scratch Acid,
Barry Ungar,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Angels of Light,
Iggy Pop,
Gichy Dan,
Roxette,
Neil Young,
Infiniti,
Excepter,
Eddi Front,
Pantytec,
DJ Style,
Ornette Coleman,
Charles Mingus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.