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 Ireland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mr. Review to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar 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 chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Michelle Simonal,
kango's stein massive,
The Mummies,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cameo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yazoo,
Con Funk Shun,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang of Four,
Amon Düül II,
Joyce Sims,
Sixth Finger,
James White and The Blacks,
The Stooges,
The Shadows of Knight,
Simply Red,
Neil Young,
Prince Buster,
Black Pus,
The Doobie Brothers,
H. Thieme,
Jacob Miller,
Gabor Szabo,
Second Layer,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed,
Roy Ayers,
Soft Machine,
The Cure,
Smog,
Junior Murvin,
Colin Newman,
Todd Rundgren,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Icehouse,
David Bowie,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roxy Music,
The New Christs,
Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
Kool Moe Dee,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Man Parrish,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
EPMD,
Cluster,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wolf Eyes,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.