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 Zambia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Curtis Mayfield to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum 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 arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skriet,
Stiv Bators,
Babytalk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
U.S. Maple,
Minny Pops,
Blancmange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Al Stewart,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Pus,
Model 500,
Bush Tetras,
Heaven 17,
Josef K,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Grass Roots,
Chrome,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
DJ Sneak,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Residents,
Faraquet,
Man Parrish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tom Boy,
The Fuzztones,
Mandrill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joey Negro,
Country Teasers,
Minutemen,
Camouflage,
Judy Mowatt,
Arcadia,
The Smoke,
The Knickerbockers,
Liliput,
The Slackers,
Hashim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lakeside,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Metal Thangz,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Skaos,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Certain Ratio,
Circle Jerks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scott Walker,
Funkadelic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Faust,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Davy DMX,
Rod Modell,
The Move,
One Last Wish,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.