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 Sudan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Unrelated Segments to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb 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 linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
X-Ray Spex,
Byron Stingily,
Accadde A,
The Pop Group,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gastr Del Sol,
EPMD,
Ken Boothe,
Procol Harum,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gun Club,
Sound Behaviour,
Youth Brigade,
Lungfish,
The Birthday Party,
Sex Pistols,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Young Rascals,
June Days,
Deepchord,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Interpol,
The American Breed,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Thompson Twins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Curtis Mayfield,
JFA,
Chrome,
The Kinks,
Marc Almond,
E-Dancer,
the Association,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Smiths,
Yaz,
Black Pus,
Soul II Soul,
Joe Smooth,
Scion,
Reuben Wilson,
Pere Ubu,
Ohio Players,
Scrapy,
Lakeside,
The Moleskins,
Sun Ra,
Bill Wells,
The Move,
Harmonia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Darondo,
Arcadia,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Icehouse,
Monks,
Slick Rick,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Parry Music,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.