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 Cuba and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cheater Slicks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe 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 harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Moss Icon,
Spandau Ballet,
New Age Steppers,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
B.T. Express,
Colin Newman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Japan,
Byron Stingily,
The Last Poets,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Womack,
The Busters,
Alison Limerick,
Warsaw,
The Techniques,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Fire Engines,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fela Kuti,
Angry Samoans,
Piero Umiliani,
Supertramp,
Model 500,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Modern Lovers,
Cluster,
Agitation Free,
The Litter,
Nils Olav,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Reagan Youth,
Brand Nubian,
The Evens,
Charles Mingus,
Unrelated Segments,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Dawn Penn,
Althea and Donna,
Todd Rundgren,
Yaz,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter and Kerry,
Nas,
Aural Exciters,
The Monks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Duran Duran,
Masters at Work,
Sonny Sharrock,
Severed Heads,
The Slits,
Letta Mbulu,
Groovy Waters,
The Count Five,
Bush Tetras,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gerry Rafferty,
DNA,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.